


Public Image

by orphan_account



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Blow Jobs, Bottoming from the Top, Drunkenness, Fingerfucking, Guitarist Merlin, M/M, Obsession, Physical Abuse, Romance, Texting, Twitter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-15
Updated: 2014-06-15
Packaged: 2018-01-25 09:36:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 42,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1644065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur Pendragon, son of business magnate Uther Pendragon, doesn't want to be CEO of Pendragon Industries. He doesn't want to be stuck inside an office all day, forced to wear suits and ties. He doesn't really know what he wants to do with his life, actually. But he knows he wants Merlin Emrys, the guitarist of his favourite band, to be part of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Public Image

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Merlocked18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merlocked18/gifts).



> Written for Tavern Tales at livejournal, and uses the prompt "Isle of Mora" for Camelot Land. Thanks to [excellente](http://excellente.livejournal.com/) for the great beta and Merlocked18 for the art of Arthur :)

Arthur was almost certain his father was speaking to him, he was also almost certain that his father knew he wasn’t listening. Why, then, was there still the faint, barely audible sound of his father’s voice? Arthur much preferred the rich, deep tones of the singer currently seeping into his ears through his headphones.

One of said headphones was suddenly yanked out.

“Arthur, are you listening to me?” his father demanded.

Arthur sighed and turned away from the window to look at his father across the limousine. His father knew damn well that he _hadn’t_ been listening; that was sort of the point.

“Sorry, what?”

Uther exhaled in disgust, his face twisting in disapproval, but Arthur was used to it, and it no longer bothered him.

“One of these days you’ll have to grow up, Arthur. Do you know what I was doing when I was twenty-six? I had already made my first million pounds and was well on my way to...”

Arthur tuned out the rest, focusing solely on the music in his right ear while pretending to listen to the speech he’d heard a thousand times. He didn’t dare put the other headphone back in; that would just make his father more angry. But at least he had something, some shred of sound to cling to in the midst of insults being rained down upon him, his inferiorities listed one by one:

‘You will never do well if you don’t try, and because you have no ambition, you’re doomed to fail. You will leave the company and family name in ruins because of your irresponsibility and economical incompetence. You’re lazy, you’ve hardly earned all the opportunities I’ve given you, and there are thousands, _millions_ , of people who would love to be as well off as you. The least you could do is not sit on your arse all day like a spoilt brat.’

To which Arthur’s answer was always: _I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care._

Arthur fought the urge to put his chin in his hand from boredom. That would just initiate a lecture on etiquette.

“Honestly, Arthur, it’s like you don’t even care about anything besides that dreadful music you’re always listening to—”

“It’s not dreadful,” Arthur said instinctively.

His father paused. “What?”

Arthur sighed. He hadn’t even meant to speak at all. “I said it’s not dreadful. Sorry, keep going.”

Uther went absolutely red. Then he started on about respecting one’s elders.

Arthur looked out the window, wondering how far they had left to go before they reached the Harpers’ house.

♫♪

Thankfully, Arthur managed to escape to the study after the appropriate greetings and drinks. He’d be fetched for dinner, but that would be an hour or two from now, and was more than enough time to while away with the Harpers’ only son Leon.

“You’re counting the days, aren’t you?” Leon asked, smirking while he sipped his drink by the bookshelf.

Arthur played dumb, just for the hell of it. “Not sure what you’re talking about.” He mirrored Leon’s sip, raising his eyebrows over the glass.

Leon unsurprisingly rolled his eyes. “There’s six days—”

“Five if you don’t count today.”

“ _Five_ until the Vacant Parade concert. Until you can see your obsession in the flesh again.” Leon’s grin turned knowing and teasing.

“I’m not obsessed,” Arthur said. “But yes, there are five days. And no, I’m not counting.”

Leon laughed. “Do you realise how contrary those sentences are?”

Arthur shrugged.

“Is he still the wallpaper on your mobile?” Leon asked.

Arthur felt himself blush, and took a drink to disguise it before speaking. “I, er, changed it. Wouldn’t do for my father to see.”

“Or anyone else for that matter. Could you imagine?”

“I try not to.”

“Son of multimillionaire CEO Uther Pendragon has fangirl crush on Vacant Parade guitarist.”

“Ugh, stop. It’s not a crush.”

“I’m noticing you didn’t deny the fangirl part.”

“Because it goes without saying.”

“That you are or aren’t?”

“Aren’t!”

“Oh, naturally.”

Arthur rolled his eyes and sauntered to the window. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows down the lane, and the autumn wind through the trees made them dance in the dusk.

“How’d your date with Mary go?” Arthur asked, changing the topic.

“Marie,” Leon corrected. “Not Mary.”

“And?”

“Well enough,” Leon replied. Arthur could sense shrug without even turning to look at him. “Certainly not well enough to marry.”

Arthur chuckled. “Not going to marry Marie?”

“Nope. No matter what Father says.”

“And what does he say?”

“That if I can’t offer a suitable alternative then I have no choice.”

“He can hardly force you to, though?” Arthur turned at last, eyeing Leon. “It’s not as if we live in a time of arranged marriage. In this country at least.”

Leon spread his hands out uncertainly. “He wasn’t very clear on specifics. It was just one of those ominous ‘or else’ situations. I suppose I’ll see how it goes.”

“Suppose so...”

“How about you? Anyone besides Merlin Emrys catch your eye? Do you still go to clubs?”

Arthur leaned against the windowsill. “Not really. To both questions. Too risky.”

“Does your father know yet?”

Arthur snorted. “I’d be here in pieces if he did. I disappoint him enough already, you know I don’t need to give him another reason.” Arthur lifted his glass and took another sip. “He plans on me having three children, you know? Two boys and a girl.”

“I’d say that’s a bit frightening, but my father has nearly planned as much for me.”

Arthur chuckled. “I don’t find it frightening; I find it rather hilarious actually. He sits there talking about children and respectable names and I can barely keep myself from laughing and saying ‘I’m gay, you idiot!’”

“You _could_ still have children, technically.”

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t want them. I want to leave _something_ of myself behind when I’m gone, but not children. It just doesn’t feel right. Merlin Emrys has his music and...What do I have?”

“Oh, so he’s an inspiration as well as a wank fantasy now?” Leon teased.

“Sod off.” Arthur probably never should’ve said anything. “You get the point.”

“Yeah. Any idea what you want to leave behind yet?”

Arthur sighed and leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “Well I don’t want to leave behind a company, that’s for sure. My father may find it enjoyable to sit an office wearing a suit all day, but I certainly don’t. I want to do something physical, I just haven’t found it yet.”

“You like football, don’t you? Footballers leave impressions on fans and children and all that good stuff all the time. There’s your legacy.”

Arthur pursed his lips and shook his head again. “I’m not nearly good enough to be a professional, and anyway I don’t like it enough to make it my entire life.”

“Right, because then how would you have time to keep tabs on your guitarist?”

Arthur ignored him. “Maybe I’ll join the army, the navy or something.”

“Seriously?”

Arthur rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I dunno. I just don’t want _this_.”

“Well...You have time to choose, yeah?”

“That’s what I keep telling myself.”

_Still, it feels like time is running out._

♫♪

Arthur was so skilled at sneaking out of his own home by now, he felt there should have been some kind of award for it. To be fair, the house was big—an estate, really—so all he had to was slip out one of the two entrances and make his way to the garage, but every time Arthur made his way quietly through the large corridors, he felt like his father was around every corner waiting to catch him.

Technically, he didn’t need to explain to Uther where he was going, since he was his own man. But dressed as he was, in jeans that were tighter than appropriate, and a shirt—nothing terribly inappropriate about the shirt, just the fact that it was striped neon pink and white—he did _not_ need to run into his father and have a confrontation.

Whenever he could, Arthur arrived early for a concert as a general rule, so he could be near the front. He couldn’t always make it in time to be early, especially if he had to drive an hour or two, but he was lucky this time. The concert was fairly close to home, and he knew the venue well.

There were three bands playing before Vacant Parade tonight. Not for the first time, Arthur wondered what the other bands did backstage while one performed. Did they sit around practising? Did they watch telly or use their mobiles? Arthur was pretty sure they weren’t the type of band to do drugs or drink before performances. At the very least he wondered what Merlin did.

The first three bands weren’t that bad, but Arthur was still impatient. When the lights finally brightened to allow the stagehands to move the equipment for the next set, Arthur’s heart raced in anticipation. It was always the bass drum with the bold ‘Vacant Parade’ on it that got him.

 _Where is he, where is he?_ Arthur thought. The blond-haired drummer, Elena, came out first, as usual, and Arthur thought maybe it was because she liked to direct where each piece of her drum kit went to go. She stood by, pointing with her drumsticks if it wasn’t placed right, until finally she sat on the stool, ready to go.

It was about that time that the singer, Freya, walked on stage and the crowd cheered. Her hair was longer than it was the last time Arthur had seen them in concert, and seemed darker. Maybe she’d dyed it black. It certainly looked good, anyway.

She wrapped her hand around the microphone and smiled, eyes scanning the crowd. “Hey guys,” she said. Everyone cheered, and she laughed.

“Are you all ready?”

There was a resounding ‘yeah’ from the audience.

“Well, Merlin’s not, so we’re gonna wait for him.”

Arthur laughed along with the rest of the crowd. He thought maybe he heard a yell from the side of the stage that sounded like Merlin’s voice, but it was cut off by the sound of a guitar being plugged into an amp.

“We’re also gonna forgive him, though,” Freya continued. “You know why?”

All of a sudden, Merlin dashed out onstage, guitar in hand, and Arthur was sure he was mouthing, “No, no, no!”

Freya’s smile turned devious, and she spoke before Merlin could get to her. “Because today is Merlin’s birthday.”

A chorus of ‘aww’s went through the crowd, and Arthur couldn’t believe he’d forgotten. He knew Merlin’s birthday—he’d read the wikipedia page enough times—but it just hadn’t registered that it was _today_.

Onstage, Merlin slapped a hand to his forehead. Arthur was just close enough to the front that he could see the individual lines in his face as he frowned.

 _I wonder what he got for his birthday_ , Arthur thought. _I wonder what kind of party they’re throwing him._

Merlin walked over to his mic and put his guitar strap over his shoulder. “Thanks a lot, Freya,” he said. Arthur’s blood thrummed from hearing Merlin’s voice amplified through the room, a thousand times better than hearing it through headphones.

Freya blew Merlin a kiss, at which Merlin rolled his eyes. Merlin strummed the first few chords to one of their songs, turned one of his tuning knobs a little, then nodded. Just like that, the lights went out, and it was all dark.

It was just silent anticipation for maybe ten seconds, even the audience not making a single noise. Then it was Merlin’s guitar, Elena’s drums, and the lights flashing in time with the beat. It was loud, it was sharp, almost violent, and it took Arthur’s breath away. He felt himself drawn into the music along with everybody else, and it was the only thing in the world that mattered.

Arthur couldn’t see much because of the lights flashing on and off with each downbeat, and the fog starting to rise from the back made it even harder, but even when Freya’s high voice began to sing, he kept his eyes on Merlin. He followed Merlin across the stage, followed each quick strum of the strings and bounce of his feet. With everyone else no doubt watching Freya rolling her hips and raising her arms, Arthur watched the more simple actions of Merlin bent over his guitar, fringe in his face.

Arthur only tore his gaze away when Freya stuck her arm out over the edge of the stage, because how could he _not_ reach up and try to touch along with the rest? It wasn’t Merlin, but it was still a band member, and he’d still never been fortunate enough to actually _touch_ one of them.

“Let me hear you scream!”

Arthur’s ears were assaulted with the response, and his stomach dropped when Freya’s fingers grazed his. He was sure it was hers and not one of the other people around him. He envied the lucky girl who Freya actually intertwined her fingers with for a moment before pulling away to start singing again.

Then, quick as a blink, Arthur was back to eyeing Merlin.

They played all their best songs—which is to say, their most popular songs, not Arthur’s favourites. The songs when Merlin sang were rarely played on the radio, which of course were the ones Arthur loved best. He liked Freya’s voice well enough, but it wasn’t what kept him hooked to the band. That was Merlin.

Arthur dreaded the end of the concert, the end of his temporary freedom. With each song they played, it was another two to three minutes closer to the finale.

Only this time was different. This time, when the lights came on and Arthur saw Merlin’s sweating face, hair plastered to his forehead, Freya walked over to Merlin and whispered in his ear.

Arthur had never seen anything like the smile that lit up Merlin’s face then. Merlin turned to Freya, and Arthur read his lips as he said, “Really?”

Freya nodded, then pointed to stage right where a keyboard was being brought on.

Arthur was out of breath already from the jumping and overall excitement, but he definitely couldn’t breathe after he realised just what was going to happen.

Merlin was going to play a song.

Elena got up from her stool and pat Merlin’s back as she exited the stage. One of the stagehands came on and took Merlin’s guitar from him as Freya walked back up to the mic.

“We’re gonna do something a little different now,” she said. “Because it’s Merlin’s birthday, and we love him _so_ much...You all love Merlin, don’t you?”

The audience most decidedly loved Merlin. As Merlin crossed the stage to the keyboard that was set up just in front of Arthur, Arthur saw him ducking his head and smiling, and couldn’t help smiling himself.

“Merlin’s going to play a song for you all, okay? Now remember to cheer for him, he’s sensitive, poor bloke.”

“Oi!”

Merlin didn’t need a microphone for Arthur to have heard that. That’s how close he was.

Arthur was going to die.

Freya laughed and carried the mic stand over to the keyboard, adjusting the height. Like Elena, she pat him on the back, and as she left, the lights dimmed again.

“This is a bit different than what we usually play,” Merlin said, grinning a little sheepishly. “So if you don’t like it, well...Fuck you, it’s my birthday.”

Everyone laughed, Arthur included, but he also felt a stuttering in his heart. He’d never actually heard Merlin swear before, not in interviews or other concerts or anything. It was sort of amazing hearing him say the word fuck.

And then Merlin started playing, singing along with it right from the beginning. It was a light melody, while also a little melancholy. Merlin had been right in saying it was nothing like the band’s other stuff, not at all heavy and upbeat.

Arthur hadn’t realised he’d been holding his breath until he felt light-headed and exhaled. Merlin’s voice was so sweet like this, unmarred by guitar and drums. His lips shaped the words beautifully, carried them over the notes with graceful ease. Arthur had never been so choked up with emotion as he was when watching Merlin perform.

He was sure he was hallucinating when Merlin raised his eyes and looked straight at him during a break in the lyrics. But when Merlin started singing again, he kept eye contact all the way through the next verse.

“ _Days are like the falling leaves,_  
_unravelling, unravelling._  
_And everything we’ll see is so beautifully alive._  
_I take your hand into my own_  
_and promise you are not alone._  
_Pause before speaking the truest of words._ ”

Then it was gone, the eye contact broken, though certainly the connection wasn’t severed. Arthur was pulled in more and more with each soft line, as though Merlin’s voice was drifting out and winding around him like a snake slowly coiling around its unsuspecting prey. When the music stopped, the last notes falling off, Arthur didn’t want to believe it. He didn’t want it to be over.

Arthur wasn’t the first to clap. He wasn’t even the last to clap. He was too stunned to do anything but stare. He watched Merlin get up and leave, waving to the applauding audience, as though in a daze.

But then he acted.

Arthur knew this venue. He knew where the back door was, and where bands sometimes lingered to talk to fans and sign autographs. He wasn’t sure if Vacant Parade would do that today, considering it was Merlin’s birthday and they might be having a party or something, but Arthur had to try. He pushed his way through the mob of people, ignoring rude comments and angry stares.

 _There!_ Just outside around the back, leaning against a brick wall, was Merlin. He was standing next to a red van, hands in his pockets, smiling and talking to a group of girls. Freya and Elena were helping load things into the van; apparently Merlin had got it easy for the day.

Arthur had never dared to walk up to any of the band members before, but after this performance, he definitely felt it was time. If those girls could do it, he could too, surely?

Arthur took a deep breath. _He’s just a person,_ Arthur told himself. _More famous, less rich, but still one hundred percent person underneath._

“Are you gonna put it online?” one of the girls was asking as Arthur approached. “You should totally put it online.”

“Yeah?” Merlin said. “You could download it. I don’t care if you download it.” He looked around nervously. “Shit, I’m not actually supposed to say that.”

The girls laughed, then one of them asked, “Could we get a photo?”

“Sure.”

Great, now Arthur had to stand awkwardly and wait for them to take the photo. He lingered on the edge of the milling crowd, hoping Merlin didn’t notice him until he wanted to be noticed.

When Merlin was _finally_ free, Arthur went straight up to him. Then he realised he actually had nothing to say, let alone anything to get signed.

Luckily, Merlin was the friendly type—as confirmed by his wikipedia page—and saved Arthur from eternal embarrassment.

“Hey, I know you!”

Arthur looked around, not sure Merlin meant him at first. “Uh, you do?”

Merlin laughed, and Arthur was a little torn between annoyance at being laughed at or honoured for the same reason. “Yeah. You’ve been to loads of our shows, always near the front. I thought you looked like the son of that one bloke but couldn’t be sure because of the clothes, so I looked you up.”

Arthur felt his stomach sink. “Looked me up?”

Merlin laughed again. “Pendragon, yeah? Any idiot can use Google. Different clothes, but definitely your face. There’s articles about you and everything. You’re like one of those super rich, super posh types, right? Going to inherit everything someday and all that?”

It was like someone had shoved a knife into Arthur’s gut and twisted. Arthur had thought there was _something_ , foolishly hoped he might talk to Merlin and...Well, it had been wishful thinking, clearly. Merlin saw him as everyone else did, pigeonholed him right from the start, and that hurt so badly Arthur wasn’t sure he could take it.

“Little weird not seeing you in business clothes,” Merlin continued.

“Yeah well, I don’t wear them _all_ the time,” Arthur snapped.

Merlin looked taken aback by the tone, and Arthur was immediately sorry but didn’t apologise. He didn’t feel he should, considering the blow Merlin had dealt him.

“No need to be an arse about it,” Merlin said. “You came up to _me_ , you know.”

“Yeah, obviously that was a mistake.” Arthur turned to go, suddenly needing to be far away. No wonder they said to never meet your heroes.

Merlin grabbed his wrist and Arthur turned back. “Wait. What were you gonna say?”

_Oh my God, he’s touching me. Merlin Emrys is touching me._

But Arthur could hardly say he’d liked Merlin’s song now. He’d just do what everyone was going to do: download it when it became available online. Maybe he’d even be able to forget this whole encounter, though that wasn’t likely.

Arthur took his hand back. “Nothing. If you’ll excuse me, I have to go back to my super rich, super posh house now.”

Arthur ignored the look of confused hurt on Merlin’s face and stormed away. If anyone had a right to be confused and hurt, it was Arthur, not Merlin.

♫♪

Arthur stared at the tweet the next day in disbelief. That couldn’t be him Merlin was referring to, could it? Arthur had said maybe two, maybe three sentences to him, and now he was a tweet-worthy prat? Arthur wasn’t sure whether he should be insulted or flattered. He was a little bit of both.

Arthur didn’t send a direct reply, and he knew Merlin didn’t follow him, but maybe Merlin was checking anyway. His father would whole-heartedly disapprove and say it was bad for his public image, but Arthur had never exactly cared about that.

_There_ , Arthur thought triumphantly. He pocketed his mobile, determined to put Merlin Emrys from his mind until after breakfast. Well, lunch. It was nearly noon.

It was during lunch, however, that he was scrolling and saw something else on Twitter. A fan website for Vacant Parade he followed apparently had a new article up about Merlin’s song. The article declared that, according to the lyrics, the song was about a lover.

Merlin Emrys was in a secret relationship.

Which was just completely stupid! One didn’t have to be in a relationship to write a love song, surely. And even if it were true, Merlin had looked at _him_ while he was singing. Directly at him. _Prolonged eye contact_. That had to mean something, even if Merlin had later labelled him like the rest of society.

There’d been posts and tweets and speculation about Merlin’s sexuality before, but it seemed to have increased with the release of Merlin’s song. As usual, a lot of people suspected Merlin was dating one of the other members, especially since he always seemed to flirt with Freya. Arthur had even seen terrible tags like ‘freylin’ and ‘merlena.’ But no gender was discernible from the lyrics of this latest song, which left many jumping to conclusions, and some re-evaluating their stance altogether.

What made it worse, was that now Arthur had no idea if Merlin’s earlier tweet was in response to this, or him. If it wasn’t directed at Arthur, he just looked like a total arse now.

Then there was another one.

Arthur laughed, nearly choking on his toast. Minus one? Seriously? Was Merlin twelve?

At least now Arthur knew it _was_ him that it had been directed to. Though he still wasn’t sure whether to hyperventilate or get angry. Best to just keep a cool head and play along, he figured.

Almost immediately there was a tweet in response.

 

Arthur could do this all day. No, really, he had nothing else to do.

He was thumbing in his reply when his father walked into the kitchen and started pouring himself a glass of water. Arthur put his mobile face down on the table and took a sip of orange juice, mourning the fact that he hadn’t brought his headphones with him to the table. He hoped there wouldn’t be any conversation.

Of course, those hopes were crushed.

“Any plans for today?” his father asked as he sat across from him.

_Download Merlin’s song, listen to it on repeat until I’m tired of it, follow the speculation on his sexuality, bicker with him over social media..._

Arthur shrugged. “I was gonna use the gym a bit.”

“Hmm.”

Arthur didn’t like that face. That was a thinking face. “Why?”

“There are some documents that need your signature, but it can wait until Monday. Even I don’t like going in to work on the weekend.”

“What sort of documents?” Arthur knew he had assets—as much as he tried to daily forget it—but he wasn’t usually needed often.

“Just formality,” Uther said, waving his hand. “Things that are in your name that I need legal permission to move around.”

“What things? Like money?”

Uther sighed, the way that indicated his eternal struggle to put up with such incompetence. “In the end, yes, it is money. In a more or less tangible form. But unless you plan to be an active participant in the company, don’t worry about it.”

“Well if it’s in my name, I figure I have a right to know what’s going to be done with it.”

“You’ll know when you read the documents on Monday,” Uther finished, raising his glass to his lips. He had that knowing glint in his eye that Arthur loathed, and a barely hitched eyebrow that dared Arthur to say anything else.

Arthur shoved the rest of his lunch in his mouth. His father knew perfectly well that he would read those documents and barely understand a word of all the legal jargon. And that he was too proud to ask those present to explain it.

It was only Saturday though, and all that could wait two days. Arthur drained the rest of his orange juice in three gulps and left his father sitting alone.

♫♪

Arthur did end up exercising, if only to let off some steam. He fought the urge to check his mobile again, determined to go at least a _couple_ hours without doing something Merlin Emrys-related. But he couldn’t help it when his mobile rang in the middle of his third set of leg curls. It was Leon.

“Hello?”

“So how was he?” Leon asked right away. “I heard he sang one of his own songs.”

“ _You_ heard that?” Since when did Leon pay attention to Vacant Parade?

“Wanted to do my research before I spoke to you. And why are you out of breath? I didn’t catch you in the middle of a wank, did I?”

Arthur chuckled breathlessly. He’d actually been saving the wank for the shower afterward. As motivation, of course.

“No, I was working out. And yeah, he sang his own song, since it was his birthday, I guess.”

“You don’t sound as excited as I thought you’d be.”

Arthur shrugged, then remembered Leon couldn’t see him. “Yeah, well, I met him.”

“Seriously? After what, two years?”

Arthur ignored the interruption. “He called me ‘one of those super rich, super posh types.’ Before I even said hello to him. Apparently he recognised me.”

“Ouch. Can you blame him, though? You do have a reputation.”

“Yes, but it’s not as if I showed up in a suit and tie. I was wearing skinny jeans, for Christ’s sake—”

“Wait, what? You own those? Can I see?”

“It’s like all he saw was my face and a big ‘Pendragon’ across my forehead,” Arthur continued, ignoring the interruption again.

Leon was silent a few moments, and Arthur sat down by the bench-press, putting his elbows on his knees.

“Well, what’d he say after that?” Leon asked.

“After what?”

“After he called you rich and posh.”

“I told him I didn’t wear business clothes all the time and then he called me an arse.”

“Okay, there’s something you’re not telling me. I don’t know the bloke, but from what you’ve said about him, he wouldn’t just call someone an arse for no reason. You did something, like you always do.”

Arthur sighed. “I may have snapped at him.”

“Arthur. We’ve talked about this.”

“Yeah, I know, but I couldn’t help it. I thought...I dunno, I thought he’d be different, and then he wasn’t. I was angry. So yeah, I fucking snapped at him. And he deserved it! You can’t just start a conversation by labelling someone and expect a thank you in return.”

“Were you angry because he judged you, or were you angry because it was _Merlin_ who judged you?”

Arthur sputtered. “What difference does it make?”

“A lot, apparently. People talk shit about you all the time, Arthur. Remember all those articles a couple years ago when you finished uni but didn’t start working for your father? You brushed those off just fine. And now your idol says one thing and you snap at him.”

“He is _not_ my idol.”

“Arthur, you told me the other day you wanted to leave something behind the same way Merlin has with his music.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I want to grow up to be a famous guitarist in a rock band. I just...like him. Or I thought I did.”

“Arthur, you don’t even know him. The same way he doesn’t know you.”

Arthur chewed his lip. He hated when Leon made sense. Now he felt more like some stupid, ordinary, let-down fan more than ever.

Still, Merlin shouldn’t have said that!

“Look, what’d he say after he called you an arse?” Leon asked.

“Nothing. I left.”

Leon groaned, and Arthur could imagine his friend putting his face in his palm. “Arthur, you idiot. You didn’t even try to resolve things? How are you even a functioning adult?”

“I was angry, okay?”

“Hurt, you mean.”

Arthur sighed, but didn’t deny it. Leon wouldn’t believe him anyway; he knew him too well.

“Well, either way, I’ve been indirectly talking to him on Twitter,” Arthur said.

Arthur heard the shuffle of movement from the other end of the line, then clicks of a mouse. After a moment, Leon was back again.

“Arthur. What the fuck are you doing?”

Arthur chuckled. “I don’t know. I sort of just went with it. Should I not have?”

There was more clicking as Leon considered. Then, “I don’t know...At least you’re finally talking to him...”

“Exactly.”

“How long have you been working out? The last tweet is from nearly half an hour ago and it says ‘guess I scared the prat away.’”

Arthur put his mobile on speaker and navigated to Twitter. He gaped when he saw @thatmerlinemrys had started following him, _and_ that he had a direct message from him. And not just one, but many. Merlin was _talking_ to him.

“He messaged me...”

“What!” Leon exclaimed. “What’d he say?”

Arthur opened it.

 

“He apologised...”

“What’d he say?”

“That he didn’t mean to be insulting and that it’s cool I like his music.”

“I knew he wasn’t a bad guy,” Leon said.

“He also said he’d wanted to talk to me before. And then he called me pretentious.”

“Which you were, after he offended you,” Leon pointed out.

“Okay. Well. Yes, maybe a little.”

But Arthur couldn’t get over it: Merlin Emrys had wanted to talk to him? For how long? Arthur had been to almost ten shows over the past two years, and had never gone within more than maybe ten metres of the band afterward. That might have been because it would just look pathetic, a semi-celebrity himself asking for a signature, but also because he had nothing to say. What did Merlin want to say to _him_?

“So how are you going to reply?” Leon asked.

“I have no idea.”

Leon chuckled. “I’ll hang up then, let you focus. Tell me how it goes later. And try not to be an arse.”

“Right.”

“Bye.”

Arthur didn’t move for a few moments, save for swiping his thumb over the screen of his mobile every so often to keep it illuminated. He read Merlin’s messages over and over again. What was he even going to say?

He started typing, stopped, erased, then started again. Finally, he figured he’d keep it simple. He only had 140 characters after all.

Arthur hadn’t expected an immediate reply. He’d expected to have to wait at least ten minutes, for Merlin to have gone off and done something in the meantime. But apparently Merlin had his mobile on him, because it was only about a minute later that Arthur got a notification.

Arthur might have pouted a little. He’d enjoyed their game. Oh well. Merlin was probably too busy to engage in such antics for long anyway, unlike Arthur, who had loads of time, and either way, his father was right about it possibly leading to a media disaster.

Arthur stared at his mobile, gaping, until he felt his lips chap and his tongue go dry. Had he just become friends with Merlin Emrys? What did it mean that Merlin had called him a prat again, after just calling a truce?

Arthur kicked himself back to coherency, hoping Merlin hadn’t turned off his mobile yet.

Arthur still wasn’t sure where things stood with them, but at least now he knew which reaction to go with.

Definitely hyperventilating.

♫♪

By the time Monday arrived, Arthur was still a little in awe. Merlin hadn’t messaged him again, but Arthur figured he was busy. He himself spent the time listening to Merlin’s song and following the buzz behind the possible meaning of the lyrics. When his father rang Monday morning, waking him up from a deep slumber, Arthur was abruptly brought back to reality.

“Shit,” Arthur hissed, raising his arms to smell under them as he jumped out of bed. It wasn’t too bad. Even if it was, it would have to do, because there was no time for a shower. He shoved his legs into a pair of trousers, nearly falling in his haste.

His father was less than pleased when Arthur showed up almost an hour late, and looked him from top to bottom with undisguised disapproval. Arthur glanced down at himself, but his shirt wasn’t wrinkled, his tie was perfectly straight, and he was fairly certain his hair was even semi-presentable.

Arthur gave the other men in the room his most charming smile as he sat down at the long table. “Terribly sorry to have kept you waiting. Let’s begin, shall we?”

♫♪

“I’ve never been so embarrassed in my entire life!” Uther exclaimed in the lift after.

“Well that’s certainly a lie, because I know for a fact that you’ve been in worse situations,” Arthur countered.

His father fumed, his chest puffing so dramatically that Arthur fought the urge to laugh. He wondered if steam would actually blow out of his ears.

“I’ve had enough, Arthur,” Uther said ominously. “I’ve let you do what you want for years now, and maybe that was my mistake. I’ve been too soft on you.”

Arthur scoffed. “If this is what you call soft—”

“Enough! You _will_ be CEO one day, like it or not, so long as your last name matches the one on this building. I know you’re not completely stupid, because you must have learnt _something_ at university, so the sooner you grow up and realise how things work in the adult world, the better.”

Arthur’s first thought was, _No!_ And his second: _What if I marry and change my name?_

Uther stepped close, raising a finger in warning. “This is the last time you anger me, Arthur. The next time, I disown you. Do you understand?”

Arthur swallowed. He couldn’t afford to be disowned, and not just in terms of money. Sure, he had a few marketable skills, but no work experience. Where would he work, a shop? Where would he live? He didn’t even know what to do with himself _now_. He might really have to join the army then, and the media would go crazy over that.

“Yes, Father.”

“Good.”

The lift doors opened and Arthur followed his father out into the lobby. If he’d felt time was running out before, he felt it even more so now, like every beat of his heart was the tick of a clock. He had a sudden urge to run, to keep running until he couldn’t, and never look back.

“Father,” Arthur said when they exited onto the pavement. “What I just signed...I didn’t give you all my money, did I?”

Uther sighed. “I do wish you would take the time to get educated in these things, Arthur. No, I haven’t just taken all your money. I do care about you, believe it or not, and I only have your best interests at heart. I wouldn’t do such a thing.”

 _Funny, I thought I would know my own best interests,_ Arthur thought bitterly.

“So why did we have to move things around?” Arthur asked. He already couldn’t remember if it had been stocks or shares, real money or something that represented money. The words always ran together into an incomprehensible block of text for him.

Uther seemed to choose his words carefully. “Sometimes it is...financially advantageous to have funds in various places. We were simply rearranging some of those places today, as well as setting up certain failsafes.”

Arthur frowned. “Failsafes for what?”

“For your future.”

Arthur didn’t like the sound of that. “How?”

His father sighed again, turning back to the building. “Go home, Arthur.”

“Father—”

“ _Go home_.”

Arthur clenched his jaw. He wanted to push; he had a terrible feeling that his father had tricked him into something, or done something underhanded by playing on his ignorance. But if he pushed too hard, he risked getting his father’s anger.

So he went home.

♫♪

It wasn’t Vacant Parade that Arthur listened to when he got back to the house. He needed something a bit heavier, something more metal with more screaming. He changed into joggers and a t-shirt and plugged his headphones in, then ran around the estate seven times.

He was only running in circles, sure, but when he pushed himself, when he felt the muscles in his legs burn and the air blow through his hair, the scenery would blur and he could imagine that he was running away. Guitar riffs flowed through his veins, double bass pedals beat in his heart, singing that was really yelling matched the same frustrated sound that stuck in his own throat but that he couldn’t voice.

He ran until he couldn’t, until he was wheezing for breath and every muscle in his body protested. He had a cramp in his side, his head was throbbing in time with his heartbeat, and his legs felt so numb that he eventually just fell to the grass. He lay spread-eagled, staring up at the passing clouds as he inhaled, exhaled, inhaled, exhaled.

When Arthur had finally got most of his breath back, and felt he could move, he pulled his mobile from his pocket and changed the music. He moved from Metallica to The National, needing a deeper, sweeter sound to cool down to. As the first sounds of “Cherry Tree” entered his ears, Arthur closed his eyes and let the breeze dance across his sweaty skin.

Even though he felt like he could barely move, and probably wouldn’t for the next thousand years, he also felt strangely content. Maybe it was the endorphins from the run, maybe it was the music. Either way, the combination finally had him feeling much more relaxed and at ease. His mind entered a state of drifting numbness, and he no longer sensed an overwhelming dread.

After a few songs, Arthur was almost happy. Now he could go back to Vacant Parade. He opened his eyes and raised his mobile to his face, scrolling through the artists until he got to ‘V,’ then pressed shuffle.

The song that came on was one where Elena sang. This was just another reason Arthur liked the band, because everyone sang at least once. It was also precisely what Arthur had tried to explain to Leon when Leon had first discovered Arthur’s guilty pleasure.

Leon had said that nobody ever expressed much feeling over instrumentalists, that it was always the singer people loved, and that Arthur was weird for choosing to focus solely on a background member. Arthur had said that wasn’t true, and even if it was, Merlin wasn’t _just_ a guitarist. He sang almost a quarter—okay, maybe an eighth—of Vacant Parade’s songs. It was totally normal to overlook the other band members and focus on one, especially one that was so pretty to look at. And if it wasn’t, Arthur didn’t care, because Merlin was still brilliant and deserved more attention than he got.

But even though Arthur had calmed down, and Elena’s voice _was_ nice, it wasn’t what he needed. He needed Merlin’s voice in his ear right now.

Sure, he’d been listening to Merlin’s new song almost nonstop, but it didn’t yet have the comfortable familiarity of the old ones. Arthur had memories attached to these songs, to these melodies and lyrics, and here, on the grass in the gentle breeze, he needed to wrap those memories around him like a blanket. As Arthur started the song and put it on repeat—one where Merlin’s voice was low and lilting—he rolled onto his side and let the music soothe him.

It was almost like at the concert, where nothing else mattered. Arthur reached out and rubbed a blade of grass between his fingers, individual strands starting to peel off the longer he kept at it.

He wondered where Merlin was now, where the plane had taken him, and what he was doing. Did it bother him, all those people commenting on his relationship and preferences? Arthur had often imagined the media nightmare that would happen should he come out, but he only somewhat cared what the public said and wrote about him. It was his father most of all whose opinion would affect him.

Eventually the air turned chilly and Arthur’s stomach growled. With a sigh, he pushed himself up, brushed himself off, and headed back in.

After a hot shower and a large lunch, Arthur went up to his room to use his laptop. Looking at Vacant Parade’s website, Arthur saw that Merlin was currently in North America. Washington, D.C., to be specific. They’d be touring in the States for the next three months.

Arthur figured Merlin did, actually, have a home, probably a flat somewhere that he lived in when he wasn’t touring or off filming music videos or travelling from place to place to give interviews. He also figured that Merlin had a family, though they were certainly never mentioned to the public, only ever in passing reference. Merlin probably visited them first and foremost before going home, wherever home was.

That’s when Arthur made himself stop. He’d been about to open a new tab and check Twitter again, but he stopped, right in the middle of that thought. Because that— _that_ —was a little stalkerish. Almost certainly a little unhealthy.

Arthur pushed his laptop to the side and brought his knees to his chest. He was not obsessed. He was _not_.

People who were obsessed weren’t able to lead normal lives. Their obsession bled into everything they did, sometimes prevented them from keeping up with their responsibilities, affected their ability to function in society. Arthur wasn’t like that. Arthur just really liked a band. He wasn’t obsessed.

If he were _really_ obsessed, he would’ve followed them to every city on their tour. He would think about them all the time and track their every move. Arthur at least did other things, like football and social gatherings and press events. He’d even been asked to model a few times for a magazine. And he didn’t _honestly_ want to know where Merlin lived. He was just curious as to how always being on the move affected the man’s home life.

Arthur nodded reassuringly to himself, then pulled his laptop back into place. There was nothing strange about his behaviour. Any other wealthy twenty-six year old with too much time on their hands could easily be in the same situation.

The #MerlinEmrys tag on Twitter was busy. Not busy enough to be trending, because Vacant Parade was hardly as famous as people like Beyonce or Kim Kardashian, but it wasn’t stagnant like usual. The reason was because of a new interview.

It had to have been _extremely_ new, because they’d only been in America for what, two days? When Arthur followed the link to YouTube, he saw that it was uploaded almost seventeen hours ago, and had just over three thousand hits. Arthur turned the volume up and skipped the advert.

Freya, Merlin, and Elena were sitting on a black sofa in what seemed to be a perfectly square room with light blue walls. The interviewer across from them sat in a black, plastic chair, his hair just messy enough to be artsy, and his black and white check top open over a red Vacant Parade t-shirt. He was leaning his elbows on his knees in a comfortable, friendly manner, and the only thing that indicated it was an interview at all was the unnaturally bright lighting, as well as the microphones clipped to all their shirts.

Merlin was wearing dark green skinny jeans and a black hoodie that seemed two sizes too large. He was leant back on the right side of the sofa, closest to the camera, hands in the folds of his hoodie, and sat comfortably with his legs open, one knee bouncing up and down.

Arthur still found it so surreal that he’d seen Merlin in the flesh only two days ago, and now here he was on YouTube, looking the same but somewhere across the pond. He wondered again what Merlin was doing at the very moment as the interviewer asked the first question.

It was all standard questions at first: How are you liking the capital so far, have you met any particularly crazy fans, are you excited about the rest of the tour, etc. Arthur really only watched so he could hear Merlin’s voice, but didn’t expect much. Merlin was the shyest of the group, and like always, the other two usually did most of the talking.

Then the interviewer, Matt, looked at Merlin and said, “So Merlin, you know I have to ask about your song, right?”

Merlin smiled, and his eyes twinkled. “I know it’s not like our usual stuff. I figured it would get some attention.”

Matt chuckled. “Chyeah, just a bit. You’ve got a lot of people talking. Lots of questions regarding who the song’s about.”

Merlin shrugged and shook his head at the same time, which should’ve looked ridiculous but instead just looked cute. “I’m not in a relationship. It’s more like about the ideal lover, you know? That someone that we all want in our lives. I haven’t exactly found them yet, but I guess that’s who it’s about.”

Freya, since she was closest to him, slung an arm around his shoulder and ruffled his hair. “Awww, Merlin, you sap,” she cooed. Arthur couldn’t help smiling as he saw Merlin blush and push Freya away.

Matt smiled as well, and it didn’t seem predatory, like most interviewers, but sincerely amused. Then he asked, “Is there anyone who comes to mind, though? A certain boy or girl who you wish would be that someone?”

Arthur didn’t miss the careful way in which ‘boy’ was glazed over. It had even been put before the ‘girl’ so as to seem nonchalant, no doubt. And if Arthur hadn’t missed it sitting here in his bed, Merlin hadn’t when he’d been there in person.

“No,” Merlin said, shaking his head again. “I mean we all have people we think are attractive, and maybe we think about a little more.” Matt chuckled at that, and Merlin’s blush seemed to deepen. “And I guess there’s someone like that for me. But as far as love? Probably not. Either way, I’ve, er, yet to see if they’re relationship material.”

“‘They?’” Matt echoed.

Merlin outright laughed that time, his face breaking out in a grin wide enough to make his eyes squint. “You’re not getting it out of me that easily,” he said. “I’m having fun reading what people think.” On the other side of the sofa, Elena rolled her eyes. Arthur perked up.

Matt quirked a brow. “So you know about the gossip surrounding your, uh, orientation?”

Merlin nodded. “Yeah. I like the internet as much as the next bloke, and generally try to avoid the more disturbing parts, but I do sometimes look at the tags, just to see, you know? I have to admit, I didn’t think one song would cause such a big reaction. We’re not all that popular and I’m hardly the star of the group—” Freya rolled her eyes. “—so I was a little surprised people even cared that much at first. Now I’m kind of enjoying myself,” Merlin finished with another smile.

“So not even a hint?” Matt asked.

“Well, there is one quote I’ve always liked,” Merlin said. “I think Kurt Cobain said it? ‘I’m not gay, though I wish I were just to piss off the homophobes.’ I just think that’s great,” he laughed.

Matt looked about as confused as Arthur felt. Was Merlin saying he was straight, or did the fact that he liked that quote mean he was actually gay?

“So...” Matt nudged.

Merlin shrugged, smiling impishly. “So have fun guessing and I’ll have fun watching. I have nothing to hide either way, it’s purely entertainment, so I’ll tell people eventually. But I can tell you right now, I never have and never will date Freya or Elena. They’re my mates and that’s just weird.”

“Ew, no thanks,” Elena said. “I’ve seen you pick your nose.”

Merlin laughed. “You know, if you ever have a boyfriend, you’re gonna have to be okay with him picking his nose, Elena.”

“And farting,” Freya added.

Merlin burst into laughter. “Yeah, that too. And he’ll have to be okay with your snoring.”

“I don’t snore!” Elena insisted.

“Sure you don’t.”

“Okay, okay,” Matt interrupted politely. “We just have a few more questions. These are from the Ask Vacant Parade tag on Twitter.” He picked up a few cards from the floor and held them in his hand.

“I didn’t even know we had that tag,” Freya said. She looked at Elena and Merlin, who both shrugged.

“First one is from @jackiejenkins224,” Matt began. “Who chose the name Vacant Parade?”

Merlin and Freya both pointed to Elena.

“Second one is from @yolo1234.” Merlin snickered, and Freya elbowed him. “What’s one thing that absolutely nobody knows about you?”

“Wow,” Elena said. “Are these questions optional?”

Matt chuckled. “Technically all the questions are optional.”

“Do you mean like even things these two don’t know about?” Freya asked, pointing her thumbs at Merlin and Elena.

“I guess so. That’s what the question says.”

They all wore nearly the same thoughtful expressions as they considered. Arthur waited anxiously, wondering if Merlin would pass or say something.

It was actually Merlin who answered first.

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “I know. My mum’ll kill me for saying, though.”

Freya stared at him with a raised brow, and Elena leaned forward to look at him.

“I always forget to cut my toenails until a day when I suddenly stop and look down and think, ‘Wow, I should cut those.’”

Arthur laughed, and actually said, “Oh my God” aloud.

Onscreen, Freya shoved Merlin’s shoulder. “That’s hardly a secret, Merlin.”

“Well it’s not _terrible_ or anything, but it was something nobody knew. And I swear my mum is going to kill me come Christmas.”

“Or buy you some clippers,” Elena said.

“Maybe your _ideal lover_ will remind you to cut them,” Freya teased, sticking a finger in Merlin’s ear and twisting while making kissy noises. Merlin swatted at her.

Matt looked on amused at them, but then said, “Okay, we only have time for one more question.”

“Go,” Freya said.

Matt looked down at his card. “Who’s the ‘rich, posh prat’ Merlin was complaining about on Twitter?”

Arthur gaped.

In the video, Merlin’s recovery time was much smoother. “Just a fan that came up to me after our last show in England,” he said. “There was a misunderstanding but it’s taken care of now.”

“Yeah, because we told you to,” Elena added. To Matt, she said, “Merlin’s always putting his foot in his mouth. He didn’t even see what was wrong with what he said until we pointed out how it could’ve been taken.”

“I said sorry!” Merlin exclaimed, raising his hands.

Matt laughed and put down the cards. “Alright, that’s all the questions I’ve got. You guys’ve been great, thanks for taking the time to talk to me.”

He leaned forward to shake each of their hands and just as the video ended, Arthur heard his mobile go off with a notification.

As he reached for his phone on the nightstand, disconnecting it from the cord, Arthur was still kind of in shock that he was talked about in an interview. He’d had interviews himself, of course, and was no stranger to the media, but he wasn’t _famous_ famous. All he had was a name that was synonymous with money. He didn’t have fans. If anything, he had people that hated him.

He was even more shocked when he saw Merlin had messaged him on Twitter again.

 

Arthur took a few deep breaths, but his heart was racing and he couldn’t really get calm. He still had so many thoughts in his head from watching just a ten minute interview.

_Merlin’s song is about someone he wants. Merlin looked at me while he sang it. Merlin has someone he finds attractive. Merlin might be gay, or at the very least bisexual. Merlin talked about me in an interview._

Arthur felt about 87% certain Merlin had meant him when he said there was someone he was attracted to. The remaining 13% uncertainty was mostly due to disbelief and doubt. Arthur knew he himself wasn’t bad-looking, so it was entirely possible Merlin did find him attractive. But that was if Merlin was into blokes, which was a big if. And there was also the fact that, you know, he was Merlin fucking Emrys _._

Arthur wasn’t sure he read that correctly. He read the last four words over and over, still not believing it. Merlin Emrys asking for his number? Was this for real?

Arthur didn’t want to seem too keen though, so he replied logically.

 

Yep, definitely for real. Arthur would recognise a shoddy attempt at getting someone’s number from a mile away. Even though the 140 character point was pretty valid, one didn’t just ask for someone’s number in order to continue a conversation between acquaintances. The very fact that Merlin wanted to make the effort spoke volumes.

So Arthur gave Merlin his number. A couple minutes later, he got a text. He didn’t even open it right away, he just sat with his fists in his hair, staring at his mobile and saying, “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God...”

Arthur did eventually look though, because they’d struck up a momentum and it would seem odd to break it. He told himself to keep in mind that Merlin was a person—someone who cut (or didn’t cut) their toenails, someone who used the loo, someone who got sick.

 

_= arthur? =_

_\- Yeah, it’s me. -_

_= great. you don’t mind me asking for your number, do you? i just think this is easier. =_

 

Arthur snorted. As if he minded a single bit. It was too good to be true.

 

_\- It’s fine. -_

_= cool. so back to the reaction thing: you said you’d seen a lot of it? does that mean you looked? =_

 

Arthur hovered his thumbs over the screen uncertainly. If he said no, it would not only be an obvious lie, but would cause him to risk losing his chance of getting with Merlin. He had to at least tiptoe around the matter.

 

_\- I admit to being a bit curious. Most of it was about what I expected. -_

_= same. i did hate that some jumped to thinking im gay solely based on the fact that i won’t say im straight right away. like this whole thing is an unwillingness to come out or whatever. =_

_\- I can see how people might think that. -_

_= yeah, but honestly, do i seem like the type of person who’d be unwilling to come out if i was gay? =_

_\- No. -_

_= glad someone can see that. and whats the good of being a celebrity if you can’t tease your fans every so often, you know? =_

_\- I don’t know? -_

_= oh yeah i forgot you’re boring so you wouldn’t =_

_\- I don’t exactly have fans to tease. But how am I boring again? -_

_= come ooooon. even the way you text looks like you’re wearing a suit. =_

_\- Because I type properly? -_

_= i dare you to do something stupid. something skinny jeans and pink shirt arthur would do. oh! send me a smiley face :) =_

 

Arthur laughed and stared at his screen, caught between amusement and confusion. What the hell did Merlin mean by ‘skinny jeans and pink shirt Arthur’ anyway? He was only the one Arthur.

 

_= hurry up prat, im falling asleep over here =_

_\- I’m not sure what to send. -_

_= omg you’re thinking too much. it’s literally the easiest thing in the world. =_

_\- Literally? -_

_= DO IT. =_

_\- :) -_

_= thank you. goodnight! =_

 

Arthur looked at the time. It was nearly two in the afternoon, which meant it was still morning in the US. Was Merlin was just now going to sleep? Arthur had thought the whole falling asleep thing had been from impatience, but Merlin had been serious?

 

_\- Goodnight idiot. -_

 

Arthur read and reread their conversation over again, grinning to himself. He’d tell Leon about it later, but just then he got up to get the magazine where Merlin was shirtless so he could have a wank.

♫♪

“Oh my God, he actually gave me his number!” Merlin exclaimed, making Elena jump. “After the dumbest excuse in the history of excuses!”

Elena grunted at him, which Merlin took to mean ‘shut up and let me sleep,’ so he lowered his voice. He _was_ currently using her lap as a pillow, so it wouldn’t do to upset her and suddenly have to use something more uncomfortable, like say, an amp.

“Who?” Freya asked from across the van.

“Arthur Pendragon.” Merlin smiled just saying the name.

Freya rolled her eyes. “More importantly, did he see the interview yet? Was he angry over being discussed like that, d’you think?”

“Oh God, I hope not. I think he thinks I’m an annoying twat, to be honest, because his answers are always so stiff. Shit, what if he gave me a fake number?”

Merlin texted it with Arthur’s name, just to be sure, and after two minutes that seemed to never end, started to worry.

“Fuck, it is fake, I know it is,” he mourned. “Now some random person has my number and Arthur’s laughing at me.”

“As long as you don’t say ‘hey this is Merlin Emrys from Vacant Parade’ I think you’re fine,” Freya said, shrugging.

Merlin lowered his mobile and turned his head to stare at her. “Did you miss the part where I said Arthur’s laughing at me?”

Just then there was a reply, though. Merlin stifled the urge to whoop with joy, because then Elena would definitely shove him off her lap. He did sigh in relief, however, and his heart seemed to soar right out of his chest.

“It’s his real number,” he said in awe. “I have Arthur Pendragon’s real mobile number.”

“Grats,” Freya said boredly. She yawned and stretched her arms over head.

Merlin texted back and tried to make sure he didn’t seem too keen. People gave away phone numbers for less though, surely? Merlin hadn’t dated anyone in ages, but wasn’t that how it sometimes worked, exchanging numbers even when you’d barely spoken? Granted, Arthur probably didn’t know Merlin wanted to date him. That was just even more of a reason to be excited.

After Merlin made sure Arthur didn’t mind giving away his number, he went back to their earlier conversation about the sort of things Arthur had seen about Merlin online. Merlin had seen things that were laugh out loud hilarious and some that were just disturbing, ranging from “I bet he likes to take it hard, two dicks in his ass at a time,” to “all the hot, nice guys are gay, so I wouldn’t be surprised. too perfect for us girls #sigh.” It was mortifying to think that Arthur had seen some of it.

But it was also intriguing. If Arthur had looked, did that mean he was interested? Merlin could only hope, really.

“Oh my God,” Merlin groaned after daring Arthur to send him a smiley face. “Now he really must think I’m annoying. This was a bad idea, what was I thinking?”

He’d been thinking Arthur was delicious-looking, mainly. He’d wanted to fuck Arthur for years, but he knew they came from two different worlds. Merlin was just a big kid living out his dream and Arthur was an adult. He’d hoped that the fact Arthur came to so many concerts meant _something_ though.

“You were thinking that you fancy him when you don’t even know him?” Freya replied as the van went over a bump.

Merlin scoffed, even though she had a point. “I know him.”

Freya quirked a brow.

“I know his father’s company owns just about everything in the world. He likes football and our music. And he has a big cock,” Merlin said.

Freya laughed. “Merlin, you do not know the size of his cock.”

“Freya, you know not to question me on this. I have dedicated countless hours to studying that magazine and I’m telling you that bulge is a cock.”

“You have a problem, Merlin.”

Merlin sighed. “Yeah. It’s that he and his big cock are across a bloody ocean right now.”

Freya shook her head, laughing again. Arthur still hadn’t replied back with a smiley, so Merlin nudged him with another text, hoping again he wasn’t being annoying. Maybe he should he just leave Arthur alone because Arthur was clearly one of the grown-ups that didn’t want to be bothered with Merlin’s immaturity. Still, he’d thought their short Twitter battle had indicated at least a _bit_ of a playful side. And Arthur did own a rather impressive collection of skinny jeans...

Freya yawned again, and this time it made Merlin yawn, too. “Go to sleep, Merlin,” she said, curling up over her rucksack.

“I will in a minute.”

Arthur made it much harder than the whole thing needed to be, but at last he did send a face. Merlin grinned at his screen as he typed in a farewell, then pocketed his mobile and rolled over onto his side, his cold ear pressing firmly against Elena’s warm thigh.

♫♪

Merlin tried to text Arthur as much as possible, but sometimes days got away from him. Days _and_ nights, actually—they blurred together so quickly that occasionally a whole week passed before Merlin contacted Arthur again.

He was almost always busy. He had to eat, sleep, practise, play, drink enough to make sure his voice stayed healthy, and on top of that there was the background gossip about him online he was looking at. When he did find time to text, it was in the dull moments in the van, and even then he hesitated because he always worried he was annoying Arthur or that the time difference was too far off. He told himself that Arthur knew he was busy, that _that_ was the reason why Arthur never initiated the conversation. But it wasn’t like they were ringing each other up; it was texting, and if one of them didn’t reply right away, it shouldn’t have mattered.

After a month and a half, Merlin felt like he did know Arthur. Not the way he did before, but _actually_ knew him. He’d finally got the courage to ask what he’d wanted to the night of the concert, when Arthur had been such an arse: what had Arthur thought of his song? He hadn’t expected Arthur to say it was his favourite, but the knowledge severely heightened his mood afterward. Maybe he’d record more of his songs, but only let Arthur hear them. He wondered if Arthur would like that, since he seemed to like the band so much.

Merlin also knew Arthur’s favourite tea and how he liked it, his favourite foods, how many bones he’d broken, the things that made Arthur laugh out loud or just chuckle, what he found annoying, what his friend Leon was like, stories from his childhood, and all sorts of other things. And the more they talked, the more Arthur seemed to be comfortable with him. He still took the time to capitalise and punctuate, but there was more character to his words, no longer sharp and stiff. He didn’t seem afraid to send smiley faces anymore, which sometimes made Merlin hug his mobile a little ridiculously.

Merlin told Arthur stuff about himself though, too. What his mum was like, what his worst fears were, how he best liked wearing his hair but how other people seemed to like him wearing it instead. He told Arthur a little about Freya and Elena, and had all kinds of fun sending him photos of the funny things they were doing when he could. They never directly called to speak, but Merlin was still too shy for that yet, and he had a feeling Arthur preferred it this way as well. What they had worked.

So after a month and a half of texting whenever possible, Merlin decided he could tell Arthur what he was still waiting to tell the world. However, it was in the middle of a conversation that he made up his mind, and he couldn’t exactly randomly say it.

 

_\- What’s it like to be famous? -_

_= lol why are you asking like you don’t know? =_

_\- Because I don’t? -_

 

Merlin furrowed his brow. Arthur didn’t think he was famous? What, so he thought just Merlin was the celebrity in this friendship? That was almost hilarious to think about.

 

_= you have a blue check by your twitter name. you’re famous. =_

_\- Oh is that how they measure fame these days? -_

_= yes =_

_\- That just means I’m important. Which makes sense, considering. I don’t exactly have fans though. How do you think I managed to stay unnoticed when going to your concerts? -_

_= you wore glasses a few times =_

_\- Fair enough. But it’s also because nobody looked twice at me. -_

_= careful, it’s starting to sound like you have self esteem issues =_

_\- Not going to address that because I’m not pathetic. But the point still stands nobody noticed me. -_

_= they probably didn’t really think it was you. i know i didnt believe it the first time. you’re like the male paris hilton, why would you be at a rock concert =_

_\- I think you have the wrong person. -_

_= okay maybe paris hilton was a bad example. ummm...mark zuckerberg or donald trump? or in this case you’re like the son of donald trump i guess =_

_\- Stop comparing me to famous people and answer the question. -_

_= lol it has its pros and cons. i love my fans but sometimes they’re weird. luckily the band isnt so well known that i have to wear sunglasses and a hoodie when going grocery shopping or anything =_

_\- You go grocery shopping? -_

_= when i’m home yeah. though i don’t expect you to know much about it. you probably have servants that do all that stuff for you =_

_\- I don’t exactly call them servants. And so? Shut up. I could do it if I wanted to. -_

_= would you even know how to cook the things you bought? =_

_\- I can cook some things. I’m not completely useless you know. -_

_= i never said you were useless =_

_\- Whatever -_

 

Merlin frowned. That had certainly taken a sudden turn. He hadn’t meant to come off as mean, just teasing. But maybe now he could slip in what he wanted to say.

 

_= sorry, am i annoying? =_

_\- No. You’re never annoying. -_

_= that’s good. can i tell you a sort of secret? =_

_\- Yes. -_

_= i’m gay. don’t tell anyone. =_

 

Merlin held his breath, staring at the words on the screen as he waited for Arthur’s answer. On some level, he felt that Arthur had to have already known, because it was obvious that this whole thing between them was flirting, wasn’t it? Merlin didn’t just ask for people’s numbers and text them as often as possible for no reason, especially when they were Arthur Pendragon. But now he was doubting himself. Maybe he’d read the situation wrong, maybe Arthur wanted to just be friends.

 

_\- Okay. -_

 

Okay? What did that mean? Was there anything more? Merlin waited a few minutes, but apparently that was it.

He got up and crossed the van to sit next to Freya. She was writing song lyrics, but this was more important. He shoved his mobile in her face wordlessly, making whining noises and big, hurt eyes.

Freya sighed and took his phone. Merlin bit his thumb as she read the messages, waiting anxiously.

“Well, what did you expect him to say? ‘I’m gay too and I can’t wait until you get back so we can have lots of gay sex?’”

“That would’ve been nice!”

She rolled her eyes and handed him back his phone. “Sorry, Merlin. Maybe he’s just not the ideal lover you’re looking for.”

“But...Arthur Pendragon!” he exclaimed, pointing at his mobile.

She put an arm around him, rubbing his shoulder. “It’s not the end of the world, Merlin. There are lots of other good blokes out there.”

Merlin pouted. “I thought there was a connection.”

He’d thought that after almost two months he’d finally been able to stop being viewed as the kid playing with the grown-up, and that he’d reached Arthur somehow. They were friends, they got on great, and they’d had lots of good conversations through their texting. But that meant nothing if Arthur wasn’t interested in men.

“I’m sorry, Merlin. Maybe it’s for the best though, yeah? He probably wouldn’t like having a boyfriend that’s on tour anyway.”

Merlin sighed. “Maybe.”

♫♪

Arthur couldn’t stop pacing.

“Do you think I should’ve told him?” he asked Leon.

Leon walked across Arthur’s bedroom and put a hand on his shoulder, stilling him. “I don’t know about _should_ , but I also don’t know why you didn’t.”

“He didn’t ask!”

“You didn’t ask _him_ ,” Leon pointed out.

“No, but it was indirectly put as a question when I told him I’d looked at what people were saying.”

“Lame.”

Arthur stepped back, running a hand through his hair. “So what if I did tell him? What then? We start dating across an ocean? And even when he gets back, what the hell am I going to do? I can talk to him fine through text, but actually calling him? As soon as he starts speaking I’ll make a fool of myself! How can I date someone I’m still freaking out over even knowing?!” Arthur finished, throwing his hands up.

“Arthur, calm down. Just start calling him. You got used to texting him, didn’t you? You know him now. Ease yourself into hearing his voice, and then it’ll be easier when you see him again.”

Arthur sat on his bed, chewing his lip. It sounded like a good enough idea, but there was still one problem.

“Texting is so different, though. There’s all sorts of awkward pauses when you ring someone on the phone. And I can’t edit my words as carefully. He’ll be able to hear little subtleties in my voice that are frankly just embarrassing.”

“Look, Arthur, I don’t know what to tell you. It’s either you have the courage to do it, or you don’t. If you want this, you have to try.”

Arthur sighed. Leon was right, of course. In the end, it came down to Arthur, because now it was clear that he _was_ the someone Merlin wanted, that the past month and a half had been the “evaluation of relationship material” as Merlin had said in the interview, and it was Arthur’s move. They were compatible as mates, but were they compatible as more than that?

Arthur didn’t _think_ the temporary distance would be a large problem, or at least that issue wasn’t at the forefront of his mind. Mostly he was thinking about how he’d be able to actually bed Merlin if they did end up together, and everything else sort of fell into a haze of background worries. He’d be able to say that Merlin Emrys was his boyfriend, and thousands of people across the world would be jealous.

If he could just get over the last of his over-excitement. (He’d also probably have to come out, but that was another matter for another day.)

“I have to get ready to go to this...art thing for a few days in Switzerland,” Arthur said, waving his hand as he stood. “I’ll think about telling him while I’m there.”

“Yeah. Don’t think too long though, you know? When you finally do tell him, he might get upset you kept it a secret, and you wouldn’t want to risk ruining everything.”

“Wow, thanks. No pressure or anything, right?”

“Right.”

“Your parents aren’t making you go to this stupid thing?” Arthur asked as he opened his closet. “Or at least going themselves?”

“To what thing?”

“Basel.”

“Oh. No, they’re going, but they want me to stay here and ‘bond with Marie.’ As far as I’m concerned, you’re lucky. What I wouldn’t give to have a go with a nice Swiss girl.”

Arthur chuckled as he picked out tops at random and laid them across the nearby armchair. “Not exactly what I’ll be doing there.”

“What a waste.”

“I do wonder if I can manage to have my headphones in this time, though. My father nearly took them away last year.”

Leon guffawed. “Like a naughty child?”

Arthur glared at him then went back to his closet for trousers. “He said it was it ‘rude and antisocial’ of me to wear them. Don’t know how he managed to find me, because I thought I’d slipped away.”

“He probably also didn’t want any photos of you doing it either. Not exactly good for the public seeing you like that. I _still_ don’t know how you go to all these concerts unnoticed.”

Arthur shrugged. “It’s never the actual event that’s the hardest, believe it or not. It’s the going and coming back where I have to be most careful. Merlin says it’s because people don’t expect me to be there so they don’t think it’s really me. I just don’t think I’m particularly worth noticing.”

“I probably wouldn’t recognise you either, to be honest. And that’s saying something considering I’m your best friend.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I look the same, trust me. They’re just clothes.” Seriously, what was with people saying he looked different?

“Guess I’ll never know since you won’t show me,” Leon said, sitting on the bed.

Arthur stopped and looked down at the things he’d put in the armchair. Damn, he should’ve paid attention to what he was pulling out. What was the weather like in Switzerland around this time of year again?

“Arthur!”

Arthur snapped his head up, looking at Leon. “What?”

“Your concert clothes? Can I see them?”

Arthur laughed. “Why? You make it seem like I’m crossdressing or something.”

Leon’s face pinched up in distaste. “Not an image I wanted in my head, Arthur.”

Arthur put his hands on his hips and stuck a foot out. “What, you don’t think my legs would look good in stockings?”

“Please. Stop. I beg of you.”

Arthur laughed again and dropped his hands. “Okay, I’ll show you. You’re going to be disappointed, though.”

He turned back to his closet and pushed the clothes aside, revealing the chest of drawers behind them. He pulled open the top drawer and took out one of the first folded shirts, a black and blue check top with long sleeves that he usually wore over a black v-neck.

“Shirt,” he said throwing it behind him to Leon without looking. He opened the second drawer and pulled out a pair of jeans, throwing those behind him as well. “Jeans.” Then he went to the third drawer, and dug through the accessories until he found a studded belt. When he pulled that out, Leon stopped him.

“If you throw that belt at me, I’m whipping you with it.”

“Not an image I wanted in my head, Leon.”

“That makes us even, then.”

Arthur put the belt back, closed the drawer, and turned around. Leon was holding up the shirt in front of him, so Arthur couldn’t see his face.

“Where do you even buy these?”

“At clothing shops. Not exactly hard to find,” Arthur said.

“Well, duh. I meant how do you walk in? They may not recognise you at the concert but surely you get some stares going into said shop.” Leon lowered the shirt and raised the jeans.

“That’s usually when I have to wear a hat and a hoodie or something. Sometimes I wear glasses. But I have enough clothes now that I don’t have to go out to buy new ones anymore. And I can always get stuff online if I need to.”

Leon threw the clothes back at Arthur, who caught them. “Can I see ‘em on?”

Arthur sighed and checked the time. He really should have been packing for his trip, because he had to leave the next day. It would only take a couple minutes though.

“Yeah, alright.”

He set the clothes aside and undressed, then picked up the jeans and shoved his legs inside. Leon gaped.

“Oh my God, Arthur.”

Arthur stopped with his shirt in his hand. “What?” These weren’t even his tightest jeans. And his tightest jeans were only tight around the arse. The ones he was wearing now he usually had to wear with a belt.

“I just...don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so gay.”

Arthur laughed. “Yeah? Maybe I should go find a bloke to snog and top it off.”

“Nah, I think Merlin would get jealous and call you a prat on Twitter again.”

“You think?”

“That doesn’t mean go do it.”

“‘Course not.” But the idea that Merlin would get jealous over him was still a nice thought. “Do you still want me to put the shirt on?”

“Yeah, might as well. Never seen you wear flannel before.”

“Yes, you have.”

Arthur slid his arms into the sleeves and buttoned it up anyway. He’d actually never worn it buttoned up like this, but it didn’t look too bad. When he finished, he held his arms out, raising his eyebrows.

“Still think you look gay,” Leon said. “Now you just look like a hipster as well.”

Arthur dropped his arms, deflating. “Is that a bad thing?” Despite Arthur’s insistence that they were just clothes, this was what he felt most comfortable in, what he’d wear every day if he could. If his best friend didn’t like it, or didn’t accept this part of him, Arthur wasn’t sure what he’d do. He couldn’t tell from Leon’s tone what he thought.

“No, no, it’s not anything. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“So...”

“So you do look different. Younger. And like...I dunno, you’re giving off a different vibe or something. Not a bad vibe,” he added quickly.

“But not a good one?”

“No, Arthur, for fuck’s—A neutral vibe! You look fine, okay?”

“Okay.”

Arthur brought his hands to the top button and started taking the shirt off. He felt the same quick hesitance as always when changing back into his normal clothes, but, as always, he pushed the feeling down and carried on.

“You like wearing them,” Leon stated as Arthur re-adorned his white shirt and blue cardigan. He said it matter-of-factly, like a realised observation.

Arthur shrugged and swapped his jeans for his grey trousers, not looking Leon in the eye. “I guess I do, yeah. Even though I grew up in _these_ ,” he said, gesturing to himself, “I don’t feel like myself in them.”

“Hmm.”

“I have to finish packing, so...”

“Oh, yeah, got it. I’m gone,” Leon said, turning to leave. At the door, he stopped and looked back. “Oh, Arthur?”

“Yeah?”

“If any sexy, rich girls ask for your number, give ‘em mine.”

Arthur grinned. “Alright. Good luck bonding with Marie.”

“Thanks. God knows I’ll need it.”

♫♪

Arthur was almost certain his father was speaking to him, but he was also almost certain that his father knew he wasn’t listening. Why, then, was there still the faint, barely audible sound of his father’s voice? Arthur much preferred the soft, melodic tones of Freya currently seeping into his ears through his headphones.

One of said headphones was suddenly yanked out. “Arthur, are you listening to me?” his father demanded.

Arthur sighed and turned away from the window to look at his father on the other side of the plane.

“Sorry, what?”

Uther’s hands clenched into fists on the armrests. “Don’t make me have to take that away from you again, Arthur. If I let you out of my sight, I expect you to act in a reasonable manner.”

Arthur couldn’t help but feel a flare of irritation. Perhaps Leon had a point, and Uther was still treating him as a child. He didn’t deserve such treatment.

“I don’t see why it’s an issue,” Arthur said, forcing calm into his voice. “There’s people there who wear hoodies and jeans, and it’s not as though these are over the ear headphones, so it’s hardly—”

“You are not other people, Arthur. You’ll conduct yourself appropriately. Remember what I said about angering me.”

Arthur wanted to scream. He wanted to do the really childish thing and break something, hit something over and over. Their private plane was spacious enough, but at the moment it felt suffocatingly small. Arthur wished they weren’t about to take off so he could at least find comfort in texting Merlin, but that would have to wait until they landed.

For now, all he could do was grit his teeth and say, “Yes, Father.”

♫♪

Arthur’s mobile was nearly dead when they got to Switzerland, so he had to turn off the music to save some of the battery. He kept his headphones in though, if only to keep his father from speaking to him.

 

_\- I hate my father. -_

 

It was the first time Arthur had ever texted Merlin first, and also the first time he’d ever expressed such a sentiment for his father outside of his teen years. But his fury made him bold. He only hoped Merlin wasn’t sleeping; he could never be sure of Merlin’s sleep schedule or the time zone Merlin was currently in.

 

_= so do a lot of people =_

 

Arthur frowned at the message. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting, but it hadn’t been that. Merlin was usually nice, even when he was joking or teasing or being sarcastic. He was only ever bitter when he was sad or angry.

But then a minute later, as Arthur was still trying to decipher Merlin’s text, there was another one.

 

_= sorry. wanna talk about it? =_

_\- There’s nothing to talk about really. He’s just not letting me do what I want as usual. -_

_= what is it you want to do? =_

_\- Loads of things. In this case, listen to music in public, which he says is inappropriate. -_

_= don't take this the wrong way but it seems like you’re overreacting if that’s all it is =_

_\- No, it’s a fucking art show. The venue isn’t even particularly formal. I should be able to do it, but the only reason I can’t is because of who I am. -_

_= why do you want to listen to music there so badly anyway? i mean i’m all for music since that’s how i make my living, but i can go a few hours a day without it =_

_\- It’s complicated. -_

_= uncomplicate it? =_

 

Arthur furrowed his brow, thinking. He couldn’t really explain it though. He didn’t have words, or maybe he just didn’t know how to phrase it as well as he wanted to. Sometimes he just needed music in his ear to keep himself sane. It was bad enough hiding who he really was with his clothes, putting on false charm day in and day out. To have music was to let a little piece of _him_ trickle into everyday life. But what was the simplest, easiest way to say that?

 

_\- It helps me. -_

_= with what? =_

_\- Deal with stuff. Life. I don’t know. It makes things easier. -_

_= oh. thanks. =_

_\- Why are you thanking me? -_

_= it’s nice to know my music can do that for people. assuming it is my band you listen to. =_

_\- Among many others, yes. -_

_= yeah. so thanks. it means a lot to me. =_

_\- You’re welcome I guess. I’m still angry though. -_

_= why can’t you just listen to music anyway and fuck what he says? =_

_\- He’ll disown me. -_

_= so? it seems like being disowned = freedom at this point =_

_\- I don’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t have any skills. -_

 

It was strange finally admitting it to Merlin, but it was also a weight off his chest. He just hoped Merlin wouldn’t think any less of him now, or think that he really was useless.

 

_= why do you think that? =_

_\- Because it’s true. -_

_= according to who? your father? =_

 

Arthur’s mobile beeped at him and he swore under his breath.

 

_\- My phone’s about to die. I’ll talk to you later. -_

_= can i text you in like 9-10 hours? =_

_\-  Okay. -_

 

Arthur sighed and put his head against the window. Beside him, his father was presumably sending emails on his mobile, but paused to say, “We’re nearly to the hotel, I think.”

“Do I have to go tomorrow and Sunday?” The rest of the week was a given; there was no getting out of that.

“I’d like it if you went at least Sunday.”

Arthur wasn’t going Sunday.

♫♪

After plugging in his mobile, the first thing to be unpacked was his laptop. Arthur took it from his suitcase and set it up on the desk, then logged into the hotel’s wifi. He went straight to the Vacant Parade website. Merlin was in San Antonio, Texas.

Arthur went to lie on the bed, falling onto it with a heavy exhale. He had a few hours to kill before he was expected for dinner, and then two whole days to himself before having to endure weird art, weird people, and unfair restrictions. Now was probably the best time to figure out what he wanted to do about the whole getting-with-Merlin situation.

Leon had said to call him. Right. Arthur could do that. Because Merlin was a person with likes and dislikes, memories and fears, thoughts and feelings. A little bit of fame shouldn’t be so intimidating. There were people in the world that thought Arthur was unapproachable because of who he was when _he_ was perfectly normal.

“Maybe I should get drunk when I do it,” Arthur mused aloud.

That would be embarrassing, though. There’d be no question as to whether or not he’d make a fool of himself then. The only thing for it was to suck it up and ring and hope Merlin was alone.

“I should still get drunk.”

Arthur got drunk. There was a bottle of something rather strong in the mini fridge, and, pausing a moment to consider, Arthur decided to forego a glass, drinking straight from the bottle. He figured he deserved it because 1) he hadn’t got properly pissed in a while, and 2) his father was a fucking cunt who was ruining his life.

He sat at his computer while he drank, and before long pulled up his Merlin folder. There was always one photo he liked wanking to especially, a photo of Merlin on an outdoor stage dripping with sweat, black hair plastered to his forehead and his v-neck soaked through. He had his lips parted and his body bent back just a bit as he played, with the thick vein in his neck popping out. One foot was propped up on a speaker at the front of the stage, his legs forming a delicious “h” that Arthur wanted to crawl under.

Arthur took his headphones from his mobile and plugged them into the laptop, starting up Merlin’s newest song and putting it on repeat. As the first notes of the piano started and Merlin’s voice entered his ears, Arthur sighed and took out his cock.

It was slow and lazy at first, because the alcohol buzzing through his veins made everything heavy and blurred. It was almost like he was incapable of getting his mind to wander, and he could only stare and focus on the glistening sheen of sweat that covered Merlin’s body, the angular lines of his frame and the lean muscles in his forearms that came from playing guitar. But after a few minutes, after he licked his hand and started stroking quicker, he could imagine the usual things—Merlin’s lips around his cock, Merlin’s voice saying Arthur’s name, _moaning_ it, Merlin pressed flat against him, running his fingers through Merlin’s hair...

And the song playing in Arthur’s ears only made it better. Arthur let his head fall back and closed his eyes, satisfied to let his imagination take it from there.

_Then you smile so bright_  
_with tears in your eyes_  
_and you say I love you_  
_more than this world..._

Fuck, yes, he could just see Merlin’s smile as clear as ever when that piano had been brought out on stage, beautiful and perfect, and—

_I believed you then,_  
_I believe you now_  
_and we’ll be together_  
_forever somehow._

Merlin talking to him, his lips forming the words “Arthur Pendragon,” the same lips that sung lyrics, and his hand grabbing Arthur’s wrist, the same hand that played guitar, maybe even the same hand he himself wanked with...

Then Merlin’s hands were all Arthur could think about. Touching him, caressing him, pulling his hair, shoving into his arse, teasing a path down his prick, pushing him against a wall, grabbing his face and snogging him—

_...and we’ll never part.  
I’ll always be here for you._

—intertwining with his own, holding him and never letting go, being his, _his_ Merlin Emrys, fuck—

“Fuck!”

In hindsight, it was lucky Arthur didn’t shoot too high, because he hadn’t lowered his trousers to his ankles, and it would’ve been inconvenient to mess them up. As it was, he just pulsed over his hand, slightly bent over and gasping for breath. He dropped his head to the desk, his forehead resting on the cool wood, and he stayed there, drunk and spent, with Merlin still singing in his ears until he felt sober enough to move.

♫♪

Arthur had completely forgotten that Merlin had asked to text him in nine hours. He remembered only when he heard his phone sound just as he was finally drifting off to sleep.

 

_= you awake? =_

 

It was drowsiness that made Arthur brave. Had he been in his right mind, he would have stopped and second-guessed himself and worried over the consequences. Now, his reasoning was mostly that it was easier to just talk than push buttons on a screen. It was laziness, really, that made Arthur call for the first time ever.

Of course, he only realised the gravity of his actions while he was waiting for Merlin to answer. But then it was too late, and he was nearly half asleep, so the worry quickly passed.

“Hello? Are we calling each other now?”

“‘M tired. This’s easier,” Arthur slurred. He lowered his hand and angled his head so he wouldn’t have to hold the phone up.

“Um, okay. I’m eating, though. You don’t mind if I chew in your ear, do you? Some people hate that.” There was indeed a little smacking of lips and the occasional swallow coming from the other end.

“Don’t care.”

“Alright. But uh, the thing I wanted to talk to you about is kind of personal, and Freya and Elena are here...”

Arthur could hear them in the background, saying, “Like we give a shit what you talk to him about,” and “Why are you even still speaking to that twat?”

Arthur frowned into his pillow. Had Freya just called him a twat?

“So, uh, yeah, unless you don’t mind them hearing...” Merlin continued, ignoring them.

“Depends on how personal,” Arthur said. He was sort of coming back to wakefulness now, but not entirely, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to be entirely awake if Merlin wished to talk about personal things anyway.

“Okay, it’s just...Arthur, everyone is good at _something_. I know you have a skill of some sort.”

Arthur sighed. “Mmm. Football. And teachers always said I was good at maths, too. Hate maths, though. ‘S tedious.”

“Maybe you could learn to like it? Or at least do something that involves maths in a way that doesn’t feel tedious?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t want an office job. Tha’s why I don’t work for my father. You think ‘m jus’ lazy? No.”

“Okay, I guess I get that. I wouldn’t want to be stuck inside all day either. Maybe you could...Hmm...Could you teach kids to play football?” Merlin suggested.

Arthur sighed. Why did they have to talk about this now? “I hate kids.”

“Troubled teens then? Like some sort of community outreach thing, I dunno.”

“No.”

“You’re certainly not making this very easy, are you?”

Arthur grunted. For a few moments, there was only more chewing, along with a babble of background noise. It sounded like Merlin was in a fast food restaurant or something.

“Hmm. Something outside, involving maths,” Merlin said.

From further away, Arthur heard Freya say, “Construction workers do maths, don’t they? When they build houses and things?”

“Yeah!” Merlin exclaimed. “You could build things!”

Arthur snorted. “‘M not going to be one of those sweaty, low-paid labour workers, Merlin.”

“Well now that’s just pride getting in your way, and I can’t help you there.”

“Why does it even matter to you so much?”

The resulting silence drew out long enough for Arthur’s words to echo in his head, and he felt guilt settle in his chest heavily. He hadn’t meant to sound annoyed, and he certainly hadn’t meant to ask such a question when he already knew why Merlin cared so much.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that,” Arthur said. God, had he really snapped at Merlin Emrys _again_? It’s like he couldn’t even hold a proper conversation with him.

“I just want you to be independent, Arthur. I _know_ you can be. You’re not useless. And you’re not unskilled either, so your father can go fuck himself.”

Arthur smiled. That was definitely something he would treasure forever, Merlin’s voice saying that to him. “Thanks, Merlin. You’re a good friend.”

“Better than your spoilt arse deserves, that’s for sure.”

Arthur chuckled. He knew Merlin didn’t mean it, that now that Merlin was sure Arthur’s self-esteem was intact he felt he could tease again. The thought was exciting—he was talking with Merlin Emrys and he wasn’t making a complete fool of himself.

“I should let you go to sleep,” Merlin said.

“No! I mean, yes, but...don’t hang up yet. Please. Keep talking.”

“Talk you to sleep?”

Arthur’s face heated. Maybe he’d thought too soon about the whole fool thing. “You don’t have to.”

“I shouldn’t, because I’m technically supposed to save my voice for performances, but...I could sing if you want. I don’t have anything else to talk about.”

Arthur’s heart soared. Fuck, it’d be like his own private concert. “Yeah.”

“Alright. Let me just finish eating, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

Arthur waited excitedly, and worried he would fall asleep before Merlin even started. But then he heard Merlin take a sip of a drink, then Merlin’s voice, smooth and sweet in his ear.

“ _Green, and blue, and the moon won’t even look at you. Cool, and sore, and you’ve never wanted anything more...”_

♫♪

Arthur’s first thought when he awoke was, _Merlin Emrys sang me to sleep._

He felt like he was quite literally going to explode with happiness. His veins thrummed with delight when he remembered the lulling tones, and he still couldn’t believe it had actually happened. He’d called Merlin, they’d talked, and Merlin had _sang_. If Arthur’s mobile hadn’t been in the bed with him upon waking, he would’ve thought it a dream.

_Merlin fucking Emrys sang me to fucking sleep!_

He had to tell Leon. He unplugged his phone and tapped in a quick message.

 

_\- Merlin sang to me last night! -_

 

The reply was almost instant.

 

_~ You told him youre gay then? ~_

_\- No. -_

_~ Thats just cruel mate ~_

 

Arthur frowned. It wasn’t cruel, was it? Friends could sing each other to sleep, couldn’t they? Merlin hadn’t acted like it was weird. He’d been the one to offer in the first place. And even if it did seem like Arthur was leading him on, it wasn’t like he was doing it with the intent to let Merlin down. He fully intended to enter a relationship with Merlin; he was just working his way up to it.

He also had his father to think about, though. Arthur was sure to be disowned if he came out, and if he was with Merlin, there wasn’t a chance in hell he was going to hide the fact. He needed to figure out what he was going to do with his life before he risked it, and telling Merlin he was gay would push them into a relationship too quickly.

 

_\- I’ll tell him soon I think -_

_~ Do it before he moves on. ~_

 

Maybe it would be best to just tell him anyway? If he explained the situation, surely Merlin would understand. And at this point, Arthur was willing to have sex behind closed doors for a little while if it meant having sex with Merlin full stop. He just didn’t want to be a burden.

 

_\- I’ll keep talking to him and see how things go. I like the pace we’re moving at now. -_

_~ As long as you know what you’re doing ~_

_\- Btw, do you know any outdoor jobs that use maths? -_

_~ Like an architect or geologist? Is that what you want to do? I thought you hated maths? ~_

_\- Idk, I hated doing it in school but it’s something I’m good at so I figured I’d look into it. Merlin thinks I should be a construction worker. -_

_~ You certainly like whacking things enough ~_

_\- Cheers. -_

 

Arthur got up and went to his laptop. The Vacant Parade website was still up from the day before, and Arthur looked to see where Merlin would be for the next week while he was in Switzerland.

Merlin had one free day between San Antonio, Texas and Albuquerque, New Mexico, then he went to Flagstaff and Phoenix, Arizona, then to Las Vegas, Nevada. On Arthur’s last day in Basel, Merlin would be in Los Angeles, and the band would be in California for almost a week.

Arthur looked at the time. It was nearly ten in the morning, which meant it was maybe 1 or 2AM for Merlin? Were Texas and New Mexico in the same time zone? Why did the US have to have so many?

If this was his free day for travelling, Merlin was probably sleeping. Arthur wondered if Merlin ever went to parties and got drunk. They’d probably do a lot of that in California since they were there so long.

Arthur sighed. He likely had a while until Merlin woke up. Maybe he should research what it was geologists and architects did and how much they got paid, or at least what construction workers were really like. They couldn’t _all_ be mindless, hard-hat wearing drones, could they?

He decided he’d do it after breakfast, or in his case, lunch, since he had the whole day ahead of him. For the moment, he went to rewatch some Vacant Parade music videos.

♫♪

Arthur always felt a little weird going out to eat alone in public, because one time when he’d done so, a whole article had been written about it. It hadn’t been a particularly long article, but still, the fact that someone had photographed him at a table by himself and captioned it ‘Lonely son of multimillionaire dines alone’ had been rather disturbing. Arthur had been glad when his father hadn’t seemed too put out by it.

But eating alone in a foreign land was even more weird. Arthur supposed it should’ve felt more comforting, because at least in Switzerland he wasn’t as likely to draw attention, but it wasn’t. There were strange faces, people speaking words that he didn’t understand, and really, it would’ve been nice to have at least _one_ person with whom he could connect here.

Usually, Arthur didn’t let eating by himself bother him too much. He didn’t have to put on his act, mainly, leaving him free to have his headphones in and be blessedly ignorant of the world around him. Which is why he was surprised when a woman suddenly sat across from him, and he froze with his fork halfway to his mouth.

She smiled and waved at him, tilting her head to the side in a way that Arthur figured probably worked on most blokes. She had a childish look about her, a twinkle in her eye, and Arthur suspected her voice would be whiny when she started talking.

Suppressing a sigh, he reached up and took out his headphones. “Hi,” he said. “Did you need something?”

“Oh, yes, but you also just looked like you needed a friend,” she replied. Arthur had been partially right; her voice wasn’t too whiny, but it was high enough that it would get old fairly quickly. “You’re here for the exhibitions, aren’t you?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Sophia.” She stuck her hand out, careful not to reach over his plate—because that would just be rude—and Arthur reluctantly shook.

“Nice to meet you, Sophia. I’m Arthur.”

“Hello, Arthur. Is this your first year coming to Art Basel?”

“No, it’s...it’s my second.”

“Oh, lovely! I’ve heard it’s best to walk around with someone, and well, I _could_ hire a guide—”

“They have tours.”

“See! You know so much that I don’t. For example, I thought I could just go in today, but apparently you have to have some special VIP thing—”

“Depends on what you’re trying to see, I suppose. It’s not open to the public the first few days—”

“Which I totally thought it was! So you’ll help me?”

“I...uh...” Fuck, she looked so vulnerable. “You didn’t come here alone, did you?”

“Oh. No, I’m with my father,” she said, deflating. “But he’s not feeling well. He’s old and it took him rather by surprise. I think someone on the plane must have given it to him, poor thing.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

She nodded solemnly. “It’s tragic, really.”

“I would help you, truly, but you see, I’m going to be with my father the whole time—”

“That’s fine! I’m not at all a bother, I promise.”

Arthur had quite a different opinion on that. He tried to put his next suggestion lightly.

“Perhaps...since it’s not open to the public the first few days...you should spend them trying to get your father as well as possible? And if he’s still unwell by then, I’m sure a tour won’t be so bad. I’ve heard they’re quite nice.”

She stared at him with large eyes a few seconds, as though the longer she kept eye contact, the more likely Arthur would be to change his mind. Finally, she shifted her expression completely, her brow tilting downward as she glared at him.

“You’re a cock, Arthur,” she spat, getting to her feet and stalking off.

Arthur sighed and put his headphones back in. He thought he’d handled that rather well.

♫♪

Back in his hotel room, Arthur kicked off his shoes and went to this laptop. Part of him was excited to be looking up possible career paths, and the other part was scared. He had no idea what to do in any of these fields, and if he ended up failing...

He couldn’t afford to think like that, though. He set his jaw determinedly and searched up architects first.

Frowning, he realised the first problem was that he’d have to go back to uni, which wasn’t exactly one of his options. He also needed at least a _little_ knowledge of design, which he absolutely didn’t have. He quickly ruled out architect and looked up geologist instead.

Apparently he’d have to go back to uni to be a geologist as well. And now that he looked at what they actually did, he wasn’t really all that interested in the earth anyway.

Arthur sighed and sat back in his chair. This was hopeless. He tried to close his eyes and think. When he thought about the future, what his idea of the perfect life was, what came to mind?

Besides Merlin.

Besides Merlin!

_Merlin, go away, stop, I’m trying to focus!_

_(No need to be an arse about it, you came up to me, you know.)_

Arthur groaned and dropped his head to the desk. Okay, closing his eyes wasn’t helping. He opened them again and stared at the floor. When he imagined working, what did he imagine?

He imagined his muscles burning. He imagined sweating. He imagined getting home and feeling tired, but productive. He imagined quick-thinking. But what fucking job was he doing?

Arthur decided fuck it, and looked up construction worker, at least to see if he’d have to go back to school for that as well.

Unsurprisingly, he didn’t, and he could already hear his father’s voice yelling at him, asking if he’d gone mad. He cringed at the thought of it, but kept looking around to see what other qualifications were necessary and what the pay was like.

Critical thinking, dependability, mathematics, results driven, teamwork...Arthur had these skills! He could do all these! And even though the salary wasn’t up there with his father’s, if he liked doing it, that shouldn’t matter, should it? He’d even have something he could leave behind, something he built with his _own hands_.

Maybe they were mindless drones and maybe they weren’t, but either way, this was something Arthur could do. He’d always liked deciding on a course of action quickly, and if he put aside his pride as Merlin said, this plan seemed perfect.

But when did he want to start? He couldn’t just jump into it, obviously, because he was still in Switzerland, but he wanted to do it before Merlin got back from America. Would Merlin be proud of him for taking his advice? Would Merlin still want him even after he wasn’t famous and was just some nobody labourer?

There was also the media and his father to take into consideration. Did Arthur want to be disowned for being gay, or for not being a businessman? Did he want to start a relationship with Merlin after the media ate him alive, or before?

Arthur thought he already had the answer to one of his questions. He wanted Merlin as soon as possible. He wanted Merlin _now_. If he was being honest with himself, he wanted Merlin more than was healthy. Maybe it wouldn’t be fair to Merlin to have the spotlight put on him as well, but people were going to talk eventually, and they both knew that.

Arthur checked the time. It would still be rather early for Merlin, but Arthur couldn’t wait. And he knew Merlin would look at his mobile the minute he woke up.

 

_\- I think I’m going to try the construction worker thing. Tell me when you’re awake. -_

 

He felt better already. Liberated. He felt the same way he did when listening to music in public, only more so. Now that he had a plan, he could take his father’s threats. He wouldn’t have to grit his teeth and agree to things anymore, because he knew that he’d soon be his own person.

Arthur got up and tore his clothes off, throwing them down on the ground. “Ha!”

He was going to stay naked until dinner, wasn’t going to put that stupid cardigan back on until he had to.

♫♪

It was during dinner that Arthur got Merlin’s reply.

 

_= awake now. that’s great arthur! when are you thinking of starting? =_

 

Arthur glanced at his father, who was speaking about the live art he’d seen and the people he’d met earlier that day, and wondered if he could get away with texting under the table. His father had done it often enough, but chances were, if Arthur did it while Uther was talking to him, it would be considered rude.

Arthur didn’t have to wonder long, because his father looked up at him before asking a direct question. “Did you go anywhere today?”

“I spent most of the day in my room, but I did go out for lunch,” Arthur said.

“Oh? Did you meet anyone?”

Arthur eyed his father carefully. “Did you send that Sophia girl to ask if I’d walk around the exhibitions with her?”

Uther furrowed his brow, then chuckled. “I could hardly send anyone to you if I didn’t know where you were. It is important that you network, though. Relationships are key, and not just the romantic kind.”

Arthur sighed and stabbed his fork into his steak.

“What did you end up saying to this ‘Sophia girl?’” his father continued.

“That if her father’s not well enough to walk with her by the time it opens to the public, she could always take a tour.”

Uther sighed this time, shaking his head in disapproval. “You’ve already got somewhat of a reputation for...well, for being an _arse_ , Arthur. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t like simply because it’s the courteous thing to do.”

“I highly doubt this was one of those times. She asked me, and I politely declined. I’m under no obligation to help every doe-eyed girl that claims to need me,” Arthur said, waving his hand. “And anyway, it was obvious she only wanted sex and money. I know the type by now.”

“Perhaps. But you will have to settle down one day, and you’ll be thirty in only four short years. You need to take such things into consideration if you still want to be relatively young when your last child is born.”

 _Right,_ Arthur thought. _Because I’m having three kids._

Thankfully, his father didn’t say anything more, and returned to his meal intently. Arthur took a bite of his steak, wondering if the stream of talking would resume as it had before, but after a few minutes of nothing, Arthur deemed it alright to finally respond to Merlin.

 

_\- I’m in Switzerland atm for the art show I told you about earlier, but I want to start as soon as I get back. -_

_= when do you get back? =_

_\- In a week. -_

_= awesome :) =_

_\- There’s something else. I wanted to tell you before, but needed to have everything worked out first. -_

_= ??? =_

_\- Can I tell you a secret? -_

_= of course =_

_\- I’m gay. Don’t tell anyone. -_

 

♫♪

Merlin screamed. Which he wasn’t really supposed to do, but he couldn’t help it in this case. “Oh my God!”

Freya and Elena looked up, and even the bloody van driver (who also doubled as their bassist/backup guitarist when they needed one) glanced back at him. “What?” Elena asked.

“Fuck!” Merlin yelled. “Oh my...Fuck! Fuck fuck fuck!”

“Merlin, what the hell is it?” Freya asked.

“Freya!”

“What?”

“Fuck!”

Merlin leaned forward, thrusting his arm out to show them his mobile screen, and waited with a racing heart while they read the message. A few seconds later, they both screamed as well.

“Fuck!”

“I know!” Merlin exclaimed.

“Merlin! Fuck!”

“I fucking know!”

“Text him back, you idiot!” Elena shouted, kicking his shin.

“Oh, fuck.” Merlin looked back down to his phone and hovered his thumbs uncertainly over the keyboard. How the hell did one respond to that?

 

_= oh =_

_\- Oh? What does that mean? -_

_= you could’ve told me earlier you know =_

_\- I wanted to have the work thing sorted first. -_

_= why? =_

_\- Because it means staying in the closet just a bit longer to avoid getting disowned and that’s not fair to the person I like. -_

 

Merlin’s heart sank. Of course there was already someone Arthur liked. Arthur looked like bloody Adonis, why wouldn’t there be someone?

 

_= it depends on who it is you like. they might understand =_

_\- It’s some bloke that always forgets to cut his toenails. -_

_= omg =_

 

“Fuuuuuuck.”

 

_\- I think he’s attracted to me but doesn’t know if I’m relationship material or not? -_

_= omg =_

_\- And he’s kind of far away right now, which sucks because I want him *really* badly. -_

 

“I’m gonna die. Let it be known that the cause of death is Arthur Pendragon’s seduction techniques,” Merlin announced.

“Noted,” Elena said.

 

_\- I hope he thinks I’m relationship material... -_

_= arthur =_

_\- Yes? -_

_= THERE IS NOT A CHANCE IN HELL HE THINKS YOU’RE RELATIONSHIP MATERIAL, YOU FUCKING PRAT =_

_\- Lol, sorry, I read that as “I would love to be your boyfriend, you sexy prat.”_

_= at least you knew to keep the prat part =_

_\- :) -_

_= i do understand btw. the press is going to go crazy when we come out and i imagine your father will explode. =_

_\- I figured I would go first? -_

_= you don’t think we should do it together when i get back? =_

_\- We can if you want, but I plan to tell my father before that. -_

_= of course. you can always stay with me if you need to, you know =_

_\- I would love to. I really really would love to, like you have no idea. But I think it’s important I try to live on my own for a while. -_

_= oh, no, i get that =_

_\- And let’s be honest Merlin, I’ll probably spend the night a lot anyway. -_

_= lol there’s no probably about it. i’ve wanted you for ages. =_

_\- How long exactly is “ages”? -_

_= i think it’s been 3 years? nearly 4 =_

_\- But that means you knew who I was already. I thought you had to look me up? -_

 

“Oh shit.”

Freya looked up. “What?”

“Shiiiiit,” Merlin groaned, hitting his forehead with the heel of his hand. “I fucked up.”

“How?”

“He knows I’m just a loser with an obsession now! Or at least he’s about to know.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re _obsessed_...”

Merlin looked at her evenly. “Freya. What do I do before every concert?”

“He kisses the page he tore out of that magazine,” Elena supplied. “The one where he thinks the fold of Arthur’s trousers is a cock bulge.”

“It _is_ a cock bulge! And that’s my point exactly.” Merlin sighed, looking miserably at his phone. He couldn’t put off replying any longer. “Fuck.”

 

_= i may have bent the truth a bit when i told you that =_

_\- Why? -_

_= to avoid looking pathetic =_

_\- Trust me Merlin, I could never find you pathetic. I’ve always thought you were amazing and that’s not going to change. -_

 

Merlin grinned, and in his mind, he was back at the concert a month and a half ago, singing the song he wrote about Arthur. He’d managed to keep himself from looking up into the crowd for most of it, but he couldn’t help it for the entire thing, and had sought out Arthur’s eyes like a magnet drawn to its opposite.

Arthur had looked up at him so mesmerised and enchanted, Merlin had barely been able to look away. It had been _Arthur_ staring at Merlin like that while he sang to him, only to him, Arthur bloody Pendragon! And now Arthur wanted to be his boyfriend, was saying he was amazing, and everything was going to be so perfect...

 

_\- Changing location. Call me later. -_

 

Merlin hugged his mobile and fell over onto his side, curling his legs in. “That’s it. I’m dead. He said I’m amazing.”

“Time of death, Doctor Elena?”

“Hmm. Ten forty-three.”

♫♪

Merlin had never been happier in his life. He couldn’t stop smiling, and he suspected his good mood rubbed off on his fans because he was much more willing to spend time with each person that came up to him. He simply couldn’t find it in him to send them on their way with a simple autograph or photo; he wanted everyone to be as happy as he was.

And a new song invaded his brain. He had a tune in his head that wouldn’t leave, and after playing it for Freya and Elena to make sure it wasn’t already a song that he just _thought_ was new, they confirmed that they’d never heard anything like it before. So Merlin went about composing the rest of it. It only took him about two hours to be satisfied with the end result.

“Merlin, stop being so happy when it’s so fucking hot out,” Elena whined backstage in Las Vegas.

“It’s not _that_ hot now it’s night,” Merlin said. “And either way, we’re inside this time! I don’t see why you’re complaining when there’s air conditioning.”

“It’s still hot onstage, Merlin, you know that,” Freya said as she applied more eyeliner in the mirror. “And leave him be, Elena, he deserves a bit of happiness.”

“Thank you, Freya,” Merlin said triumphantly. “Am I singing tonight, by the way?”

Freya put away her eyeliner and picked up her lipstick. “Yeah. We’re doing ‘Holding On,’ ‘Treats,’ ‘Stars,’ ‘Infinity Guitars,’ ‘Giving Up,’ ‘The Pornographer,’ and ‘Dreamsleep.’ So drink more water.”

Merlin sighed. He’d already drank a whole bottle. If he drank any more, he’d have to pee soon, and that wasn’t even counting the bottle he was going to take onstage with him.

“Can we do ‘Giving Up’ before ‘Treats’ so I’m not as out of breath when I have to sing?” Elena asked.

“What’s our just-in-case encore song?” Merlin asked.

“One question at a time!” Freya yelled. She smacked her newly red lips and put the cap back on the lipstick. “No, Elena, we can’t change the order because the tech guys already have their cues set up. And Merlin, let’s have ‘Walls’ as our encore song. Sound good?”

“Okay.”

Brandon, the van driver/bassist/guitarist, spoke for the first time that night, not looking up from tuning his bass.“I highly doubt there’ll be an encore, though.”

“I agree,” Elena said. “Las Vegas seems weird.”

Merlin shrugged. “Hence why I said ‘just in case.’ It’s always good to have a plan.”

Freya turned away from the mirror. “Brandon, can you go check to see if we’re almost on?”

Brandon put his bass aside, nearly hitting Merlin’s knee, and stood to leave the room. Merlin reached into his back pocket as soon as the door shut, and waited until Freya and Elena had their eyes knowingly closed to unfold the much-loved magazine page.

Honestly, he barely glanced at the image by now, at least not when he did his pre-concert ritual. It was only in the privacy of a hotel room or when the others were asleep in the van that he’d stare longingly at the defined features of Arthur’s face, or the crease of grey trousers between Arthur’s legs. Now, he simply brought the glossy page to his lips and pressed a light kiss to where Arthur’s head was without looking.

Freya and Elena opened their eyes when they heard Merlin folding it up again. Merlin felt much better now that that was out of the way, and his stomach flipped for the millionth time when he thought about how he’d soon get to kiss the real thing. It was still so surreal when he thought of it—Arthur Pendragon liking _him_.

Brandon came back in just as Merlin was putting the folded page back into his pocket. “Echosmith is doing their last song,” he announced.

Elena got up. “I’ll go check on my drums.”

Merlin picked up his guitar and followed her out as far as the stage door. If he was singing ‘The Pornographer’ then he’d need his second guitar ready with the correct tuning.

He was on his way back from the van when he heard the singer of Echosmith talking to the audience. He broke out into nearly a run that probably looked like some awkward shuffle, and barely made it back before she said “Vacant Parade.”

“Here, give this to me when I wave at you,” Merlin said to one of the stage guys, handing him his second guitar. “Be careful with the tuning knobs. Oh, and can you get my water from the back room?” The stagehand rolled his eyes but took the guitar and leaned it against one of the taller speakers in the back before going to retrieve Merlin’s water.

They were still setting up Elena’s drums, and Merlin saw another stagehand bringing his amp on, so he took a quick moment to check his phone. Arthur was no doubt sleeping, considering it was just about five in the morning where he was. But Merlin still liked to make sure he hadn’t missed a message, or, of late, a call. There was nothing.

By the time Merlin slipped his mobile back into his pocket, his amp was ready. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for all those wide, piercing eyes, then stepped onstage.

He never really expected applause, which was reserved mostly for Freya, but he did sometimes get the occasional “whoo!” He felt more sorry for Brandon—or whoever it was they had filling in for bassist/backup guitarist—who was almost never recognised.

Merlin didn’t look at the large crowd below until after he’d plugged in his guitar and adjusted the effects settings. ‘Holding On’ didn’t have much overdrive, but ‘Treats’ did, so he mentally went over the setup of his FX pedals, making sure he had it memorised even though he knew he already did.

He looked around for Freya, but didn’t see her, so he gestured to Elena, who was sitting behind her drums. She shrugged.

That’s when Merlin finally turned to the audience. He walked up to his mic, testing it by saying, “Hello.”

Almost immediately, there was a resounding chorus of “hello” that echoed back at him. He chuckled and raised his eyes to scan the sea of faces.

There was always, _always_ , one that looked like Arthur, or at least reminded him of Arthur. Sometimes the resemblance was so similar that Merlin had to tell himself it _wasn’t_ Arthur. He was never completely sure if Arthur was himself when Arthur came to shows, but he’d know the square jaw and royal nose and wide mouth anywhere. Merlin quickly passed over that person now, but it was still good to have that feeling of Arthur being there without really being there.

Things were just about to enter awkward-time-to-stall territory when Freya finally appeared. She ran out stage, long black hair flying behind her, and grabbed the mic almost violently once she got to it.

“Hey Las Vegas, how the fuck are you?!”

Merlin took a step away from his mic, placing his fingers over the fretboard in preparation as the crowd cheered. He knew Freya would want to start right away.

He wasn’t wrong; once the cheering died down, Freya said, “We’re the Vacant Parade and this song is called Holding On.”

With the reassuring weight of his folded magazine page in his back pocket, Merlin started to play.

♫♪

Merlin was starving, but he was still too buzzed from the concert and his never-ending happiness to mind much. He did feel sweaty and gross, but he’d once had a fan tell him she liked the smell of his sweat when he’d put his arm around her for a photo, so that brought him a bit of consolation in its own weird way.

There were a few fans that occasionally got on his nerves—the ones that asked him to say things so they could squeal over his accent. He was usually patient with them, and didn’t mind saying someone’s name, but if he had to say “schedule” or “tomato” one more time he was going to give an impromptu lesson in British insults.

This particular time, however, wasn’t too bad, mainly for one reason. After having said their names—“Natalie” and “Ashley”—and various other words they tripped over each other trying to get him to say—“water, stupid, cat”—Natalie asked him a question that made him forgive them.

“What exactly is a prat, by the way? We don’t say that here.”

Merlin laughed, causing his pen to slip a little as he signed someone’s notebook. “It’s like, um...Someone who’s stupid, I guess. But doesn’t know they’re stupid.”

Natalie pursed her lips thoughtfully, then said, “Oh! It’s like a dumbass?”

Merlin laughed again, feeling it all the way in his stomach this time. “Yeah, I suppose you could say that. It’s like a dumbarse.”

They both giggled. “You say ‘ass’ weird, too,” Ashley said. “Oh, can you say—”

“Drawing the line at swear words, I’m afraid.” Really, they couldn’t be more than sixteen, and they _looked_ even younger.

Thankfully, he felt his mobile buzzing in his pocket then and had an excuse to stop talking. He signed one last paper before retrieving it and ducking away with a mumbled goodbye.

The screen said it was Arthur. Merlin’s stomach jumped and his pulse raced as he answered it.

“Hello?”

There was a pause for a few seconds, and then, “Oh, it’s loud there. Are you busy?”

Merlin sighed, and hoped Arthur took it as fatigue instead of what it really was: contentment at hearing Arthur’s voice, smooth and firm and with an accent that reminded him of home, unlike the American ones here. It felt like just Arthur’s voice had the power to wrap him up in a blanket and keep him warm.

“No, I’m not busy. We have to leave soon anyway, and honestly, you saved me.”

“I saved you?”

“Yeah. There were girls that were annoying the hell out of me. They asked about you.”

“Wait, what? Did you—”

Merlin chuckled. “They asked me what a prat was.”

“Oh, very funny, Merlin. Did you say it was an idiot and that one was standing right in front of them?”

“No, I said—”

“Fuck, hold on, fuck—”

There was a rustling sound of fabric and then what sounded like heavy breathing. For a moment, Merlin thought Arthur was wanking.

That thought was quickly ruled out when he heard muffled speaking. It was so faint, Merlin could barely hear it, and he pressed a finger to his other ear to block out the noise.

There was a groan and then Arthur saying, “No.” More muffled speaking, then, “It’s only seven. We have three hours.”

The second voice became audible, but only just barely. “There are people we’re having breakfast with at eight, so you’re getting up now.”

Oh. Merlin’s stomach dropped just recognising the voice of Uther Pendragon.

“And I know you haven’t been asleep because that awful music is playing on your computer. So get up.”

“Why do you even have a key?” Arthur asked, groaning.

“Because I paid for the room. Hurry up, Arthur.”

“Merlin!”

Merlin spun around at the sound of his name. It was Freya waving him over. Reluctantly, he pulled his phone away from his ear as he walked.

“What are you doing?” she asked. “If you’re done with the fans we need you to help bring the equipment back to the van. That can wait,” she finished, pointing to his mobile.

“It’s just...can I please? It’s important,” he begged. Well, it sounded important.

“Merlin.”

“Pleeeease? I’ll love you forever.”

“Stop that. Using your eyes is cheating.”

“Please?”

She groaned and rolled her eyes. “Fine! Go be lazy in the van. We’re getting pizza after this, then a hotel before we head to LA. So you’ll have all night to talk.”

“Thanks!” Merlin hugged her before darting off toward the van, mobile pressed to his ear again.

♫♪

“What people?” Arthur asked as he threw back the duvet and sat up. He tried to look inconspicuously at where he’d lodged his mobile beneath his pillow, and panicked a bit when he saw the edge poking out. But hopefully his father wouldn’t notice that.

“Olaf and his daughter Vivian.”

Arthur’s heart sank. The week had been terrible so far: first Sophia—though his father claimed to have nothing to do with her—then Louise, then Zoe, and _now_ , Vivian. It was bad enough that he hadn’t managed to find a moment to slip away and listen to music. No, his father had to keep introducing him to his business contacts and their lovely daughters.

At least, unlike the rest, Vivian seemed to hate Arthur as much as he hated her. She hardly disguised her dislike of him at all, and would sneer openly at him if neither of their fathers were watching. And they’d only known each other two days!

“I’m sure they won’t miss me all that much,” Arthur ventured as he went to his suitcase.

“Even if that were true, it’s still important that you make an appearance. I’m not going to dine with a man and his daughter _alone_. Imagine how that would look.”

“I don’t see anything wrong with it.” Arthur unfolded his trousers and set them on the bed, then went back for a shirt.

“Of course you don’t, because you’re severely uneducated when it comes to such things. And for God’s sake, would you turn off the music?”

Arthur’s stomach plummeted when he saw his father reaching for his laptop. The screen was simply animated stars for now, but the second the screensaver went off it would be a photo of Merlin, since iTunes was minimised. Arthur didn’t even know which photo it would be, because it changed to a different one in his Merlin folder every thirty minutes.

He was definitely not taking any chances.

“I’ll...It’s not so loud as to be a bother, surely?” Arthur tried.

“It’s not the volume, it’s the principle. You shouldn’t have music playing when I’m trying to speak to you. That may be alright among your friends, but it’s disrespectful to your father. Turn it off.”

“Okay, I’ll just, um...” Dammit, the cord was preventing him from turning it toward him. He’d have to walk around his father, around the chair, draw attention to the whole thing...

“Arthur!”

Arthur cringed at the tone. That was the tone his father used when he was getting impatient. Next would be anger.

Arthur jumped into action. He couldn’t have his father disown him, not yet. He wanted to be fully packed and have money withdrawn before he said anything.

Uther did give him a strange look when he walked around, following Arthur with puzzled eyes. Arthur’s heart raced as he finally completed his circuit on the other side of the chair and turned the screen to face him.

Then he realised he was an idiot. He could’ve unplugged the cord because the laptop had enough battery.

He was here now though, so he had to follow through on his plan. He touched the trackpad, holding his breath, and was glad Merlin at least had a shirt on in the photo that was in the background.

Shit, Merlin was still on the phone! Arthur hoped Merlin couldn’t hear anything, that the pillow would be enough to muffle their speech. The last thing he needed Merlin to hear was his father calling him uneducated and trying to pair him off with women.

Uther leaned over when Arthur was taking too long, and Arthur jerked the laptop closer. “Sorry, it’ll be just a second, I promise. I couldn’t find the cursor.”

The background picked that moment to change, and Arthur opened iTunes just as he saw what image it changed to. It wasn’t Merlin shirtless, but it was much worse, and he was glad when it was covered. Then it was simply a matter of pressing the spacebar to pause the music.

Arthur exhaled and looked up. He put his hand on the edge of the table, leaning on it. “Right, so, you were saying? About, er...why it matters that I show up?”

Uther didn’t respond though, and Arthur thought he could just about make out a clenching of his father’s jaw along with a subtle eye twitch. As his father stared at him, glanced to the laptop, then stared some more, his gaze icy and unwavering, Arthur felt as though the air had been sucked from the room and fear coiled in his stomach.

It was too silent, the sort of silence that dragged on and made Arthur want to disappear, and he didn’t dare swallow because he knew the sound would carry to his father’s ears. He could read the realisation and anger and struggle for words on Uther’s face. The man’s thoughts were probably along the lines of, _Why is there a photo of a man’s navel on my son’s computer? That’s why he’s turned down all the women?_

It was too much, the moment too prolonged. Arthur had to say something before everything came crashing down.

“Oh, right, the relationships,” Arthur said. “And the, er, networking. That’s why it’s important. I’ll just shower and meet you downstairs, alright?”

Uther didn’t say anything; he did what Arthur had been hoping wouldn’t happen, which was to step forward to touch the laptop.

Arthur reached out, stilling his father’s arm. “Father—Ah!”

Pain engulfed his wrist and shot up his forearm as his father twisted his hand back on itself. Arthur bit his lip and squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself not to cry out more than he already had.

“F-Father, please...”

It was useless. Arthur could push away and tug all he liked, but even though he was stronger, his father’s grasp on his wrist was absolute. He could do nothing but hold back the whimpers in his throat as his father’s other hand closed the window on the laptop and brought the background into view again.

A closeup of Merlin’s waist, where the shirt was raised and the jeans fell to reveal the sloping muscles of his lower abdomen.

“ _What_ is _that_?” Uther demanded.

“It’s...it’s a stomach.” At least Arthur’s voice hadn’t come out whiny. A bit breathless, a little strained, but not whiny. Even when Uther twisted his wrist back further and brought tears of pain to his eyes.

“Whose stomach?”

“Just...just someone’s stomach, I don’t know.”

“Don’t lie to me, Arthur.”

“Father, please, I—agh!”

The pain reduced Arthur to his knees as he tried to turn his wrist some way that didn’t hurt as much. He couldn’t see what his father was doing on his computer, but Uther wasn’t stupid with technology, and it didn’t take an idiot to navigate to Documents and then to Photos.

“Who’s Merlin?”

Arthur tried to free himself again, but knew it was pointless.

“Why do you have over a thousand photos of him, Arthur?”

“You can’t invade my privacy this way!”

“You can have privacy when you buy a computer with your own money. Oh, that’s right, you don’t have any because you’re unemployed!”

Arthur didn’t have anything to say to that.

Finally, Uther released him, and Arthur’s wrist felt worse before it started to feel better, pain throbbing all the way up to his elbow.

“What the hell am I going to do with you, Arthur? You can’t even get something that’s supposed to be _natural_ right.” Arthur avoided the look of disappointment and disgust he knew was in his father’s face as he rubbed his wrist. “Go take a shower and meet me in the lobby. We’ll talk about this later.” He left after that, slamming the door behind him.

Arthur was still a little stunned for a few moments afterward. He hadn’t been disowned? Or maybe that was going to happen later. His father was being rather businesslike now, preferring to put the matter on hold for more pressing things. Maybe he thought Arthur was bisexual, or that his obsession with this man was just an anomaly and children were still a possibility...

Arthur’s gaze fell on the mobile peeking out from under his pillow. Shit.

“Hello? Merlin? Sorry I made you wait so long, my father—”

“Fucking hell, Arthur, are you okay?!”

Arthur cringed. So Merlin heard then. Which meant he also heard the bit about the photos. “I’m fine.”

“Fuck, I wish I was there with you. I can’t believe he said that. I can’t believe he _did_ that! Not that I could see what he did, but what a fucking prick!”

“I...Yeah, I wish you were here, too.”

“Do you really have over a thousand photos of me? And what the hell was he doing, ‘cause it sounded like it really hurt.”

“Uh—”

“Shit, sorry, you don’t have to answer that. I was just worried. And angry. Is it weird that I feel protective of you? Oh God, I’m gonna stop talking now.” Merlin groaned into the phone, and amongst everything, it made Arthur laugh.

“It’s fine. He just twisted my wrist.”

“How are you not angry? I’d be furious if my father did something like that!”

Arthur sighed. “I’m angry, trust me. But worry is sort of overpowering it right now. I’m sure anger will come when I have to see him again.”

There was a pause, and then Merlin asked hesitantly, “Does he do that a lot? Hurt you?”

Arthur looked down at his wrist, rotating it. It was still bruised from his father’s grip, but the external evidence would be gone before the internal pain was. His wrist would be sore for a couple days.

“No. He’s only done it maybe four, five times, and only after I started getting stronger than him.”

“Fuck, Arthur, I’m...I’m sorry.”

“You haven’t done anything, Merlin.”

“Yeah, but someone should say it.”

“I guess. Thanks. I have to go.”

“Call me before you go to sleep. I wrote another song for you.”

“Another?”

“Oh, well, the first was for you, too. I thought it was obvious after we got together...”

“Oh my God. Fuck. Okay. I have to go. Wow. Bye.”

Arthur groaned after he hung up. ‘Oh my God fuck okay I have to go wow bye?’ It was bad enough Merlin had to hear his father do _that_ , but to get starstruck right then and end the call that way...

He didn’t have time to be embarrassed about what Merlin thought of him, though. He had to shower, go to this stupid breakfast, and worry about his father ruining his life even more.

♫♪

Arthur had been right to assume anger would overpower worry upon seeing his father again. As soon as he located the man in the lobby, rage swelled in his chest and made him clench his fists. How dare he invade Arthur’s privacy? How dare he reduce Arthur to begging for mercy, and when Merlin could hear at that? How dare he make Arthur feel like a constant disappointment when Arthur had finally started feeling confident about himself? Arthur had done nothing to deserve that.

“We’re going straight there after breakfast,” Uther said, standing from his chair when Arthur walked up. “Do you have everything you need?”

 _No, I left it all in the room because I’m an unemployed gay idiot._ “Yes.”

The ride to the restaurant was silent, and had it been more than ten minutes, Arthur would’ve risked putting his headphones in. It was soon over though, and he was glad to be free of the confines of the car where the tension seemed thick enough to suffocate.

The breakfast itself was much better, because Uther was always determined to appear as though he was the perfect father. Arthur was even able to distract himself by staring at Vivian until she glared at him, which was a fun enough game until she stopped looking to see if he was staring altogether. Then Arthur had nothing to do but sit and watch people outside the window while he wondered if his father would wait until they returned home to disown him and how he’d find a flat with the little money he had in his wallet.

At least once they left to go to the event, it was much better. It was open to the public that day, which was a step up from nothing but boring art talks and films and live art Arthur didn’t actually care about. It was more likely that he’d be allowed to wander off by himself.

Arthur tested it when his father finished talking to two men whose names Arthur didn’t remember, leaving them alone for the first time. He stayed in place in front of a piece of art while his father moved on to the next, and when Uther glanced at him from across the room, his eyes flickered to the entryway. Arthur took the lack of reaction as permission and left to find somewhere he could listen to music.

Past sculptures, past rooms full of canvasses, and past muttering crowds of people, Arthur finally found an area that was relatively empty. There was nothing in the entire room except two people and a large canvas on the far wall. Arthur took his mobile out, put his headphones in, and felt much more relaxed once Radiohead was in his ears. No thoughts, no worries, just

_Karma police, arrest this girl,  
Her Hitler hairdo is making me feel ill..._

Arthur sighed and closed his eyes, leaning against the wall in the corner of the room by the entrance. He wished he could slide down to the floor and sit, curling his legs up to put his head on his knees and truly be in his own world, but he’d probably get yelled at for that. People got anxious here just taking out their phones, and there was always someone looking to make sure nobody snapped photos. Arthur would just have to stand and try to disappear into the background on his feet.

Four songs he listened to before he felt good enough to open his eyes again. He was alone in the room now, nothing but four perfectly white walls and one big orange canvas across from him. He stepped forward slowly, into the white abyss as though his black trousers and cerulean shirt were a smearing stain. He walked over to the canvas, staring at the simple painting and wondering what made it art.

It really was just a large orange canvas, with a white square in the middle that made it look like some sort of orange polaroid. There was nothing even in the white square, and Arthur thought maybe it was supposed to be like a window or something.

The longer he stared at the blank centre—listening to OK Go now—the more he saw. His mind filled in the empty space with what he _wanted_ to see, and suddenly the whole thing became a large orange television, the screen showing various scenes of Merlin, both real and imagined—Merlin singing at the piano onstage, Merlin laying on his back atop a wrinkled duvet with his legs open and a playful smile on his face, Merlin standing in front of a mic playing guitar, Merlin laughing so hard it made his eyes narrow and then shoving Arthur’s shoulder and calling him a prat.

Arthur was just starting to think maybe he was going mad when he suddenly felt a presence beside him. He jumped, snapping his head left, and saw a woman with light brown hair, bold eyebrows, and a friendly smile.

“Hello.”

Arthur could barely hear her over his music, and looked down to turn it off so he could speak to her properly. He pulled his headphones out then tucked the whole thing away in his pocket.

“Hi,” he finally said.

“See something?” she asked, nodding toward the painting.

Arthur looked at it again. It was once more just an orange and white painting, but if he focused—if he blocked out everything else but the blank middle and focused—he could see Merlin again.

“Sort of,” he said.

“Who?”

Arthur turned his head to her. “How do you know it’s a who?”

She chuckled. “It’s always a who.”

“Is this yours?”

She nodded. “It is.”

“How did you...decide on this?” he asked, gesturing toward it.

“There _was_ something I wanted to paint in the middle actually. Several somethings. A thousand somethings. There was so much I could put in that orange frame, that I couldn’t decide. So I didn’t paint any of them. And by painting none, I painted them all.”

Arthur consulted the canvas again. “I suppose that’s what makes it modern art,” he murmured.

She laughed and held out her hand. “I’m Mithian.”

Arthur shook. “Arthur.”

“Can I ask who you saw, Arthur?”

“Uh...”

Arthur tried to decide quickly. He was usually very good at reading people. Did Mithian recognise him, or know who he was? Would she go to some journalist with gossip or post what he said on the internet? She seemed nice enough, and it was entirely possible that she hadn’t heard of him before. Not to mention the fact that he wanted to cut off any attempts at flirting before they arose.

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said. “I was only curious.”

“No, it’s fine. I...I saw my boyfriend.”

Arthur felt warm in his chest and arms just saying it aloud. He felt even better when all Mithian did was smile and nod.

“That’s nice. He’s not here with you, is he? I imagine that’s why you saw him, because you miss him.”

“No, he’s quite far. I do miss him. A lot.”

“Hmm,” she sighed. She looked at her painting again for a few seconds, then back to Arthur. She grinned and held out her arm, offering her elbow. “Want to go see some more art, Arthur?”

“Do people even walk arm in arm anymore?” he asked, laughing.

“Sure they do! At weddings.”

Arthur chuckled, giving in and linking his arm with hers as they started off. “Am I to be your father, then? Walking you down the aisle?”

“Oh, God no, never my father. Let’s say my father died and you’re my brother. Now, which way do we want to go?” she asked at the entrance.

“I haven’t seen anything that way yet,” Arthur said, pointing right.

“Then that way it is! Come on Brother Arthur!” she took off at a run, her hair—and Arthur—flying behind her.

♫♪

Mithian was actually kind of brilliant. She was smart and insightful and funny. She liked running a lot, which earned them a lot of stares, and Arthur worried that someone might catch him, but nobody was allowed to take photos so he was technically safe from media repercussions. It was just his father he had to be on the lookout for.

“Maybe it’s a statement on how concerned the world is with appearances,” Mithian observed, a thoughtful hand on her chin.

“Or maybe it’s just a big ball of mirrors,” Arthur said.

They caught each other’s eyes in the reflection and burst into laughter.

“Oh, look over there!” Mithian exclaimed, grabbing his wrist and leading him again. At least this time it was his good one, the one that didn’t throb painfully when touched.

“Where?”

“Just through here.”

She led him into a room with multicoloured frames, different emotions depicted on each tile on the wall. They looked like child drawings, and each frame only had three or four lines to make up the face.

“What’s so great about these?” he leaned forward and asked in a whisper. There were other people in the room, and who knew if they found it inspiring or not?

“I just liked all the colours. It’s very...creative-y all in one place like this.”

“‘Creative-y?’ Creative is already an adjective, you know.”

“Shh. Take a moment and breathe in the art.” She released his wrist, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she inhaled as much as she could, she blinked one eye open and squeaked, “You’re not breathing in the art.”

“His name is Merlin,” Arthur blurted.

She exhaled, her shoulders dropping. “What? Who?”

“My boyfriend. His...his name is Merlin.”

“Oh.” She smiled. “That’s a nice name. Let’s go see the big art.” She took his hand and they went to the larger hall.

“Let’s look at that first,” Arthur said, pulling her to the right once they entered.

“It’s a plane. Or part of a plane. Or part of a paper plane.”

Arthur stopped under the plane’s tail and looked up at it. “How do you think they built it?” It looked like paper but was actually much more sturdy, and was ridiculously tall.

“I suppose they had to use a ladder,” Mithian said.

“Wow.”

“Thinking of taking up sculpting?” she asked with a teasing grin.

“No.”

“What _do_ you do, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Arthur lowered his gaze back down to her. He’d already told her his most closely kept secret; surely she wouldn’t think any less of him for this.

“Right now, I don’t do anything. But I hope to be a construction worker very soon.”

“So you like building things?”

“I’d never really thought about it before, but...I do find the idea kind of exciting, I suppose.”

“Cool. Let’s go!”

She took his hand and ran off again. They stopped when they got to the farthest wall in the hall.

“Whoa,” she said.

Arthur giggled. He leaned over and lowered his voice. “It looks like a vagina.”

Mithian rolled her eyes. “How would you even know?”

“Hey, I tried once!”

She laughed. “Clearly she was deformed if she looked like _that_. That is obviously a mouth.”

Arthur tilted his head. “I dunno. That thing in the centre is like the...the thing at the top that supposedly feels good?”

“No, no, no, that’s a uvula, not a clitoris.”

“What the hell is a uvula?”

Mithian turned to him and opened her mouth wide, leaning her head back. “That dangling thing, see?” she said, pointing.

“Oh. So then why’s the rest of it shaped like a vagina?”

Mithian looked at the piece in front of them again, frowning in concentration. After a few seconds, she said, “You know what? This might be a vagina.”

Arthur snickered. “I can’t believe you fell for that. That is totally a mouth.”

Mithian elbowed him, laughing. “You arse!”

Arthur’s snickers gave way to laughter, and he ignored the stares of the nearby people. When he got himself under control again, he saw Mithian looking at him, amused.

“Merlin’s a guitarist,” he said.

Mithian blinked, then smiled. “What genre?”

“Rock.”

“He must be all kinds of fun.”

“He is. He sings, too.”

“That sounds sexy.”

“It is,” Arthur said, grinning. “Come on then, we can’t stare at mouth-vaginas all day.”

“Let’s get something to eat. I’m starving.”

“Okay.”

It was when they were sitting down to eat at one of the cafes that Arthur realised how much time had actually passed. He looked at his mobile and saw it was almost half two, meaning four whole hours had gone by since he’d left his father. He’d forgotten all about that morning’s events in the midst of running around with Mithian. He hadn’t even missed his music much.

“You’re from England, aren’t you?” Mithian asked. “Can’t quite place your accent, though.”

“Yes. You?”

“Also England.”

He’d thought so, based on the accent. Maybe she was one of those people that didn’t pay attention to business-related news, and that’s why she didn’t know him. Honestly, Arthur would’ve been that type of person had he been born to someone else. Either way, he was glad he could remain mostly unknown to her.

They didn’t talk much while they ate, which was nice. He checked his mobile a few times to see if Merlin or his father tried to contact him, but there was nothing.

Walking back to the exhibitions, they did talk.

“So what does Merlin do?” Mithian asked.

Arthur furrowed his brow. “I told you. He’s a guitarist.”

“Oh, like in a band? I didn’t know you meant professionally.”

“Yeah.”

“Is his band famous?”

Arthur smiled. “I think so, yeah.”

“That’s great. You’re very lucky. Is that why he’s far away?”

“Yes. On tour in America.”

“Huh. Arthur the button-down-wearing boyfriend of rock guitarist Merlin. He must call you posh.”

Arthur chuckled. “He does, but I don’t usually wear these clothes around him. These are just for my father.”

“You’re here with your father, then?”

Arthur sighed. He didn’t want to talk about his father with Mithian. The two weren’t meant to intermingle, and it would remind him of all the other things he was worried about.

“Yes.”

“Oh. I see. I won’t ask. Have we been to all of the galleries there yet?” she said, pointing.

“Nope.”

“Let’s head there. We can listen to your boyfriend’s band on the way, yeah?”

“Okay.” Arthur pulled out his mobile and handed her one of the headphones, then started up one of his favourite songs that Merlin sang, ‘Stars.’

“Oh my God, his voice is actually really good!” she exclaimed.

Arthur beamed. “Yeah, it is.”

She reached for Arthur’s mobile. “Can I see?”

Arthur unlocked the screen and let her take the phone. She looked at it just long enough to read the name before handing it back.

“Vacant Parade? I might look into them.”

“Their sound is pretty dynamic. Not all their songs are like this,” Arthur explained.

“That’s fine. I like all sorts of genres.”

A few minutes later, as they were entering the hall again, Arthur said, “Oh, you should hear the song he wrote for me,” and queued it up.

She didn’t talk while she listened to that one, probably because she knew Arthur wanted her to hear every perfect syllable and note without the distraction of conversation. It wasn’t until the piano started to fade and they’d walked into one of the unexplored galleries that she spoke.

“He’s quite talented,” she said. “And again, it’s very lucky that you have someone to create such art for you.”

Arthur wondered if he was blushing, because he certainly felt like he was. “Yeah. Thanks.”

“Oh, look! A chair of chairs!” she exclaimed.

She started running again, so Arthur figured they were done with music. He turned it off and put it away, trying to keep up with her.

“Should I sit in it?” she asked, eyes gleaming.

The piece did look like a chair of chairs, a series of brown stools melded together in a way that somehow allowed it to stand by itself. A single stool touched the ground, and seemed the perfect place for one to sit.

“Of course you shouldn’t! They’ll yell at you!”

“Who’s ‘they?’ And besides, I’m a featured artist. I think I have a bit of entitlement to appreciate art in my own unique way.”

Arthur laughed. “Right. I bet as soon as you try to get up the whole thing will go crashing—”

“Arthur!”

Arthur instantly tensed at the sound of his name, not just in that tone, but in that voice. His father’s voice. It hadn’t been loud, not shouted across the room, but his father never had to say his name very loud. And it had been sharp, quick like a whip, the way that never failed to make Arthur’s blood run cold.

Arthur dropped his gaze from Mithian and turned on his heel slowly. He saw his father approaching, nearly upon him, and didn’t know if he wanted Mithian to flee or stay. He might never see her again; she might become simply a memory from Basel, nothing more. But he also didn’t want her to know his father.

“Yes?”

Uther’s glare was murderous, but he wasn’t even looking at Mithian. “What the hell are you doing?” he hissed.

“Nothing.”

Uther reached out and grabbed the hand Arthur had perched on his hip, yanking it down. “Stop _standing_ that way.”

“What?” His father had to have gone mad if he was telling Arthur not to stand a certain way.

He leaned in, keeping his eyes locked on Arthur’s, and lowered his voice. “Don’t stand with your hands on your hips, Arthur.”

Arthur had to stifle the urge to gape, but he couldn’t quite keep his brow from furrowing. His father had _never_ remarked on the way he stood before, and he couldn’t believe that he was doing so now.

“You’re kidding.”

“No, Arthur, I’m not.”

“Father, I’ve always stood that way.”

“No, you haven’t. I’ve seen you stand normally, so whatever you’re trying to do, stop.”

“I’m not trying to do anything!”

Uther caught Arthur’s hand where it was waving through the air during his exclamation. “And don’t wave your hands around like that, for God’s sake.”

“I’ve _always done that_ ,” Arthur insisted through clenched teeth. What the hell was his father’s problem?

“Well maybe it’s time you stopped. It makes you look like some...like some...”

“Like some what?” _Some fairy?_

“Some upset girl,” Uther finished.

Arthur knew he shouldn’t push; his father was angry enough. But they were in public. Uther could hardly make a scene here.

“It never bothered you before,” Arthur said.

Uther’s nostrils flared a little, and suddenly Arthur felt his tender wrist being squeezed, pain shooting through his hand and arm. He didn’t have to look down to know his father had his fingers digging into the bruise of his earlier punishment. Arthur struggled to keep his face from contorting at the pain.

“It bothers me now, and that’s all that matters,” Uther said. “Don’t do it.” He gave one last forceful squeeze on Arthur’s wrist before wheeling around and returning to the group of men he’d apparently left.

He was almost afraid to turn around and face Mithian, but before he could, she was in front of him, looking at him with wide eyes.

“Your father is Uther Pendragon?” she asked incredulously.

It only made Arthur feel worse, his chest like a deflated, shrivelled balloon. He rubbed his aching wrist miserably, not looking up.

“I mean I knew he had a son, but I pretty much live under a rock so it’s not like I pay attention,” she continued. “I didn’t know—Oh my God, your wrist is red!”

“It’s fine. Just a bruise,” Arthur said.

“And I’ve been just grabbing it this whole time. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

Arthur shrugged and let it fall.

“What was he talking to you about?” Mithian asked. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Arthur shook his head. “Something stupid. He’s being ridiculous. He told me to stop standing with my hands on my hips and waving my hand around. Which I’ve always done.”

“Ah.”

“He didn’t care before, but since he found out about Merlin this morning he’s been terrible. He said it makes me look like some upset girl.”

“What’s wrong with looking like an upset girl?”

“Exactly!”

“Wow....Wow.”

Arthur looked up. “What?”

Mithian blinked. “I just...can’t believe I’ve been running around with Uther Pendragon’s gay son. It’s a lot to take in.”

Arthur sighed. Great, now she was going to treat him differently. At least he’d had fun while it lasted.

“Could you please not tell anyone?” Arthur asked. “About me being gay. That would be a bit of a disaster.”

“Oh, hey, no,” she said, furrowing her brow and linking arms with him. “You’re still Arthur. I wouldn’t do that.”

Arthur exhaled in relief. “Good.”

“Now, do you think I should sit in that chair of chairs, or what?” she asked, nodding at the piece.

Arthur chuckled. “No way. It’d go crashing down as soon as you tried to get up.”

♫♪

Arthur’s day ended sooner than he would’ve liked. His father texted him, saying where to meet so they could go back to the hotel, but Mithian was going to stay for some of the later events and the after party. They exchanged numbers so they could meet up the next day though, and decided on Mithian’s orange canvas room as the location.

Arthur sort of wanted to tell his father he was going to stay, because he was twenty-six after all and didn’t need permission like a child. But he had a feeling Uther was telling him to come back for a reason. They were probably going to talk about what had happened that morning now that the day was done. So Arthur walked through the hall to meet his father and go to a waiting cab.

 _It_ happened again in the cab.

“Don’t cross your legs, Arthur.”

Arthur wanted to strangle something. If his father had been sitting across from him, and not beside him, Arthur wouldn’t have been able to handle it. He would look at his father’s face and see red.

Now he just yelled.

“You’re being utterly ridiculous! I’ve always stood with my hands on my hips, I’ve always waved my hands, and I’ve always crossed my legs! None of it fucking matters!”

Uther looked at him sharply, glancing meaningfully at the cabbie and silently telling Arthur not to make a scene. “Arthur.”

Arthur ignored the look, but did try to lower his voice. “That you should care now makes absolutely no sense, and I’ve seen you do _all_ of those things before, so you can’t possibly expect me to believe it’s different just because I’m—”

“Arthur!”

Arthur waved his hand in his father’s face. “It’s a bloody hand gesture, it’s not obscene. You’re acting like I’m on my knees sucking a cock!”

Uther grabbed his hand and squeezed, nearly crushing his fingers. “Lower your hand before I break it.”

Arthur snatched his hand back, clenching it into a fist hard enough to hurt. He had that trapped feeling again, like there was too much of him inside his skin and it was going to come bursting out in a violent explosion any second. But it was a thousand times worse because of the coiled ache in his chest and the pressure behind his eyes. The world was moving fast outside, so fast, and he briefly entertained the thought of opening the door and jumping out into traffic, spinning out into the road where cars could smash into him and finally put all the building tension to an end.

Instead, he uncrossed his legs and kept his fists on his knees, closing his eyes and taking one long, slow breath that came out shaky and laboured. He tried, he _forced_ himself to calm down, hearing the words to Merlin’s song he had memorised in his head—

_and you say I love you more than this world_

—until he could finally open his eyes again. When he did, the cab driver was staring at him in the rearview mirror.

“What?” Arthur snapped.

The driver shook his head and said nothing, looking back to the road while they turned a corner. Arthur glared out the window the rest of the way back to the hotel, his stomach in knots at the prospect of what his father had to say to him.

Walking back to his hotel room alongside his father, Arthur felt like a schoolboy on his way to see the headmaster, unsure of what punishment awaited. He didn’t cry often, and usually he was able to keep himself together or work through things with vigorous exercise. He was good at staying composed, maybe not always when he was angry, but certainly when he felt the urge to cry coming on, and that was one trait that he _was_ glad to have inherited from his father.

But there were times when Arthur got so _fucking_ frustrated, especially times like now when everything seemed unfair, when he already had a plan for a better life but couldn’t yet follow through. There was no house to run around until he collapsed, no private gym he felt comfortable working himself to exhaustion in, and he wasn’t sure even Merlin could make him feel better at this point.

He at least managed to wait until he’d got into his room. As he’d expected, his father followed him in, and Arthur stood there, unmoving, staring at his feet as he finally let his tears fall.

He felt like all the anger had been used up, drained slowly until he’d got to this point of emptiness. He knew he was a disappointment. Maybe he wasn’t useless, maybe he did have Merlin to call his boyfriend now, but there would always be the simple truth that he was never good enough for his father. Not in business, not in love, not even in being a son.

He didn’t care anymore. He couldn’t.

Uther sighed heavily, and in the corner of Arthur’s eye, he saw him lean his hands on the desk. Arthur still didn’t move, not to take off his shoes or wipe the tears from his face; not for anything. He blinked, and watched as a clear drop fell to the carpet, dried, disappeared.

“On top of everything, you had to be... _you_ , as well,” Uther said, remaining turned away. The lump in Arthur’s throat seemed to thicken, and more tears gathered on his eyelashes, blurring his vision. “What am I going to do with you, Arthur?”

Arthur thought the answer was obvious; Uther was going to disown him. Maybe not now, but when they got home. Arthur didn’t expected any less. He just hoped he’d be able to pack his things before being kicked out.

Finally, his father turned and stood in front of him. Arthur didn’t look up, but he did look at his father’s feet, at the brown shoes that looked so much larger than Arthur’s own but were in fact nearly the same size. Arthur blinked, and two tears fell to the tips of his father’s toes, one more sliding slowly down his nose to follow them leisurely.

“Stop crying, Arthur.”

Arthur swallowed, somewhat hoping the wet lines running down his face glistened in the yellow lamplight. He hoped it hurt his father to see him cry, because he should be hurt.

His father gripped his chin, raising his head forcefully, but Arthur kept his eyes determinedly lowered. He could feel the nails digging into his jaw, the digits warm and the fingertips cold.

“Stop crying, Arthur. There’s no reason to cry.”

“There is every reason to cry,” Arthur said thickly. He hadn’t meant to speak, but the words seemed to come on their own.

“Do you see where we are, Arthur? Do you see how you live? You do not cry when you are this fortunate. You don’t know what it is to be sad. What could someone as lucky as you have to cry about?”

Arthur jerked his chin free of the clawed hand. Somehow the words ‘My father hates me’ seemed to fall short. He didn’t say anything.

Uther sighed and turned away again, this time facing the oil painting on the wall. “Who’s this Merlin?” he asked.

Arthur hesitated, but then he said, “My boyfriend.”

He thought he heard knuckles crack.

“How long?”

There was no way his father could know the truth. Arthur compensated. “A few months.”

“And how long have you been...?”

Arthur wanted to point out that he’d technically always been gay, that he couldn’t remember a time when he’d liked girls. But he knew what his father meant, and thought back to when he was thirteen, when he’d first realised. He’d been horrified then, not _at_ himself, but _for_ himself. For this exact moment. Because even then he knew his father would hate it.

And he’d tried to make himself different, to will it away and ignore it. He went three years thinking maybe it was a phase, telling himself that it was. At sixteen, he’d stopped trying and stopped caring and bought his first vibrator as an act of rebellion.

“Thirteen years,” he said.

He definitely heard the slow, steady exhale of breath.

“Who else knows?” Uther asked.

“Besides Merlin, just Leon. I think the housecleaners might know as well.” Because they’d cleaned his room before and knew all his secrets.

“And the woman I saw you with today? Does she know?”

“Yes.”

Arthur finally reached up to wipe his face and rub his eyes, and he’d just finished when his father turned back to him. Arthur glanced up before catching himself and lowering his gaze again, but the momentary eye contact had already happened. More tears sprung to Arthur’s eyes and undid all his work.

Uther sighed again, and his hands disappeared behind his back. “I don’t suppose there’s any way I can change whatever disgusting things you do in private, but I do have a say over your public image, and I don’t plan on you messing it up now,” he said. “We can still make this work. Your relationship with this Merlin will have to remain secret—that goes without saying—but so long as you’re careful, we can manage this. You’ll still work for Pendragon Industries.”

Arthur did look up then, only because he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He wasn’t being disowned? His father still wanted him to work for him? Why?

“I don’t understand,” Arthur said.

Uther stepped forward. “I’m saying to keep it private, Arthur, for as long as possible. I don’t want to hear about this again and I want you to behave normally in public.”

Behave normally? What did that mean?

“Okay...”

“Good. Now stop crying, Arthur, there’s nothing to cry about.” He left suddenly, leaving Arthur stunned and confused.

Arthur replayed it again and again in his head. He hadn’t been disowned. He’d been called disgusting, but his father had just said to keep it private.

He was a disappointment though, wasn’t he? Hadn’t he made Uther angry? Why would his father do this?

Arthur went and sat on the bed. Maybe he shouldn’t question it. This was perfect, after all. He could still carry out his own plan of waiting until they returned home to start his new life. He could let his father believe he’d won for a few days, then do what he’d originally intended.

Arthur was back where he was before. Now it was just that his father knew.

♫♪

To say Merlin was worried was an understatement. He’d thought of nothing else since Arthur’s call. He couldn’t even properly eat because he kept hearing Arthur’s agonised screams in his head. He lay awake in his hotel room, Googling more photos of Arthur and staring into his blue eyes, wishing there wasn’t half a planet between them.

He even imagined that he could establish some kind of psychic connection, that if he caressed Arthur’s face with his thumb on the screen of his mobile, Arthur could feel it all the way in Switzerland.

 _My poor Arthur_ , Merlin thought miserably. _I’m sorry I’m not there with you._

He did fall asleep eventually though, unable to keep his eyes open, and he did need the rest. When he woke up the next day, he resisted the temptation to ring Arthur immediately, to even text, and wondered as always what Arthur was doing.

It wasn’t until they were in the van on the way to LA that anger started creeping in. Merlin had never been a particularly antagonistic person, but he hated Uther now. He _hated_ him. He hated him for making Arthur sound that way, for saying the things he had, for hurting _his boyfriend._ Arthur didn’t deserve that.

And he hated the distance keeping them from touching. There were times when Merlin could almost feel Arthur’s hands on him, imagined a light kiss on his lips. He loved being on tour and he loved interacting with fans, but sometimes he wanted Arthur so badly it hurt.

Around two, Arthur’s call finally came. It was after lunch, and Freya and Elena had dozed off into a food coma, but Merlin was determinedly trying to stay awake. He answered right away when his mobile started buzzing.

“Hello? Arthur?”

Arthur’s sigh sounded like one of those full-body sighs, and Merlin could only imagine it in his head. “Merlin.”

“How are you?”

“Fine.”

Arthur didn’t sound fine. And his answer had come too quickly for it to be truthful.

“You can tell me anything, Arthur. I know it doesn’t feel like it because we’ve only talked and not done anything properly face to face, but you can, I promise you can. You shouldn’t have to go through this by yourself.”

Arthur’s cry of pain echoed in Merlin’s head again, and Merlin had to clench his fist. He glanced at Freya and Elena to make sure they were still asleep.

“I’m...confused,” Arthur said. “I’m frustrated. I’m less angry, and I guess...I guess I’m a bit sad as well.”

“What happened?”

“Well, it started off as mostly anger, like I said it would, but after breakfast I met this woman, Mithian...”

♫♪

“Like a _what_?” Surely Merlin had to have heard wrong. No one could really think Arthur looked the least bit feminine, could they?

“Like an upset girl,” Arthur repeated. “And then in the cab he said not to cross my legs and that’s when I kind of exploded...”

♫♪

“Oh, I’ll show him disgusting!” Merlin yelled before he remembered himself. Luckily Freya only groaned and rolled over; Elena slept like the dead.

“And he wants me to keep our relationship a secret, as if he even has the right to ask that of you...”

♫♪

“Wait, so that’s it?”

“Yeah,” Arthur said, sighing. “That’s it.”

Merlin could see Arthur’s problem. Uther had called him disgusting, but he hadn’t tried to change him. He’d said to keep it private, but he hadn’t disowned him. Arthur probably didn’t know whether to feel grateful or sad.

“I knew he would be this way,” Arthur continued. “I knew it’d be just one more way I’d disappoint him. I didn’t really expect anything less. But now that it’s happened...I guess I just thought I was prepared, and I wasn’t.”

“Well, he didn’t disown you.”

“No.”

“And he still wants you to work for the company.”

“Yeah.”

“So...?”

“So now I wait until I get home. And then I can get ready to leave. By the time you get back I should be settled in a flat.”

“And then we can do all sorts of disgusting things.”

Arthur chuckled. “Yeah. Sing me that song now?”

Merlin looked around for his notebook. “Oh, right, hang on. Haven’t got it memorised yet.”

It took him a couple minutes, but then he found it lodged under his effects pedals. He flipped through the pages to his most recent song and cleared his throat. He hoped Freya and Elena wouldn’t wake up.

“ _Set off tomorrow, well I wish you well, with your handful of wildflowers on the road to hell..._ ”

♫♪

The remaining days at Basel passed fairly quickly, especially with Mithian there to keep Arthur company. With the gay conversation out of the way, Arthur was free to do as he pleased, and even stayed for the after party every night. He still had to make a conscious effort not to cross his legs or rest a hand on his hip when in his father’s presence, but he was so rarely with his father that it hardly mattered.

“You’re not going to ring me, are you?” Arthur asked Mithian on the last day.

She laughed. “What makes you say that?”

“I’ve had enough friends to know that’s how it works. There’s the kind you keep in touch with, and then there’s the kind you say you will, but never do. And the kind you start off keeping in touch with but gradually lose interest.”

“I don’t expect I’ll be hearing from you either, to be honest,” she said.

“I’d probably try, but...”

“But we don’t have much in common outside of Basel,” she finished. “It’d be a bit strained finding something to talk about, wouldn’t it?”

“I was just thinking...if I wasn’t gay, I’d probably really like you,” he admitted. “Not that I don’t really like you now. But I’d probably. You know. Want you.”

Mithian giggled. “Thanks, Arthur.” And then she leaned forward and kissed him.

It wasn’t quick, but wasn’t slow—three seconds maybe. Arthur only had enough time to be surprised and then it was over. He blinked, and furrowed his brow when she stepped back, but she carried on as usual. Arthur figured maybe it was a goodbye kiss between friends. It certainly hadn’t felt like she was trying to be romantic.

He texted Merlin before getting on the plane, even though Merlin was probably asleep.

 

_\- Going home. -_

 

He wondered if things would be better or worse by the time he got the same text from Merlin.

♫♪

Once Arthur was home, he only rested a short while before getting started. He unpacked his things, set up his laptop, and put on some music to work to.

He wanted a flat right in the middle of the city, somewhere normal and inconspicuous. Something cheap but not in a dangerous neighbourhood. Somewhere close to a bus stop or tube station.

Arthur found three that he liked, all around four hundred pounds a week, which he called about and would go to look at the next day. Maybe he’d even wear his own clothes. He smiled to himself, liking that idea already, and it _would_ help him remain mostly disguised.

Then he searched for a job. He did more research this time, staying up long into the night trying to decide. The title ‘construction worker’ actually covered a lot; there was brick-laying, carpentry, surveying, painting, formworking...Arthur had to pick one because he couldn’t go with all of them, and he found that a lot of these skills he actually _didn’t_ have.

He went to sleep feeling a little useless again, but told himself there had to be something he could just jump into. In the morning, he went back to it, looking up the specifics of carpentry and joining because that sounded the most appealing to him.

Most carpentry jobs required an apprenticeship or more school, but some of them he could start work and learn on the job. And once he started earning a salary, he could always apply for an apprenticeship and get qualified for higher-paid projects. He could even eventually lead his own team. Arthur rather liked the sound of that.

The trouble with the job was that he didn’t want to give his current address, meaning he’d have to move first. He’d expected as much, but didn’t want to express interest in a job before moving out, so he couldn’t ring any of the numbers on any of the websites. He figured he would withdraw eight thousand pounds from the bank, maybe ten thousand, and that would be enough to keep him steady while he did the final stage of the job search.

That’s what he did before going to visit the three prospective flats. After withdrawing the money, he changed into his most tattered, faded clothes—grey skinny jeans that had a ripped hem, and a black Beatles t-shirt—along with a large pair of spectacles. He gave a false name, and if the landlord recognised him, he didn’t say anything.

He didn’t get very far with the first flat, however. In fact, the landlord hadn’t even opened the door. There were two teenagers leaning against the wall in the corridor, hands in their pockets and giving Arthur a look. Arthur would’ve been content to ignore them had one of them not muttered, “Look at this bent blond, yeah?”

So Arthur politely told the landlord that he was done there and left.

The second one was promising until he got inside.

“They’re still doing a bit of repainting just here,” the lady explained. There was a sheet on the floor in the living room, paint cans scattered around, and the door to the balcony was shattered. _Shattered._ “When were you thinking of moving in?”

“As soon as possible.”

“Hmm. They probably won’t be done for a few weeks.”

“I see. Thanks for your time.”

He really hoped the third wasn’t too good to be true. The neighbours weren’t terrible, the balcony wasn’t just intact, but had a good view, the wooden floors looked freshly polished, and the rent was the lowest of them all.

“Does the air conditioning and heating work?” Arthur asked.

“Yes.”

“The cooker?”

“Yes.”

“Plumbing?”

“Yes.”

“Shower’s not ice cold or scalding hot?”

The landlord started laughing by this point. “No. I promise, everything’s fine.”

Arthur pursed his lips. There had to be something wrong. But as far as he could see...

“When can I move in?” he asked.

“Tomorrow, if you want.”

“I can pay the first month’s rent now.”

“Oh, that works. I just need contact information. Did you want to move in tomorrow then?”

“Yes, if that’s alright.”

“That’s fine.”

Arthur pulled out his wallet and took out thirteen hundred pounds. “The name is, uh. Arthur Pendragon.”

Unsurprisingly, the man’s eyebrows shot up and he gaped. “I’m sorry, did you say Arthur—”

“Pendragon, yeah. Is this enough?” Arthur asked, holding the money out.

The landlord blinked but then took it. “Um, yeah. Yeah. I also need a mobile number, and there’s some forms as well...”

♫♪

Arthur enlisted Leon’s help moving. There was no furniture, only a few boxes, and Arthur had to do it all quickly if he wanted to avoid his father’s notice. They’d made two trips to the flat and back, and Arthur calculated they’d need one more before it was done. But time got away from him; he ran into Uther in the corridor on his way out the last time.

“What the hell is this?” Uther demanded.

Arthur nodded at Leon, telling him to go on ahead. He sighed and set his box down, both dreading and looking forward to the conversation.

“What the hell are you wearing?” his father asked.

“These are my clothes. And I’m leaving,” Arthur said.

Uther gaped, and Arthur had never seen his father look so dumbfounded and ridiculous. “Where is it you think you’re going?”

“I have a flat in the city.”

“You don’t have a job.”

“I will. I’m...I’m going to be a construction worker.”

Arthur had expected the laugh. “No, you’re not.”

“I am.”

“No. You’re not. You signed a contract.”

Arthur frowned. “What are you talking about?”

“You agreed to work a minimum of five years for Pendragon Industries.”

Arthur shook his head. “I didn’t. That wasn’t...” He couldn’t remember. Had it been there? He would’ve seen it, surely. Maybe it had been worded vaguely and he’d overlooked it. The stupid words had been swimming in front of his eyes, all those stupid terms, he hadn’t thought to check for something like _that_. “That wasn’t there.”

“It was. I can show you, if you want.”

“No, I don’t care, I’m not—”

“Arthur, you’ve studied business, you know how contracts work.”

“I don’t care! I’m not working for you!”

“Yes, you are!”

“Why can’t you just get it through your head that I don’t want to? I’ve never wanted to. I hate that stupid company, I hate your stupid rules, and I hate you!”

Uther glared at him, stepping closer and raising a finger in warning. “Arthur, don’t test me. I told you—”

Arthur grabbed Uther’s hand and twisted, taking bitter pleasure in the accompanying scream. “Do it,” he hissed in his father’s ear. “Disown me. I want you to.”

Uther did nothing but grit his teeth in pain, though he kept Arthur’s gaze steadily.

“Fucking disown me!” Arthur yelled, twisting further back. “I don’t want anything to do with you!”

When his father still said nothing, only looked away, that’s when Arthur realised. Uther was never going to disown him. He couldn’t.

Arthur let go and shoved him away. His father recovered quickly, returning to glaring.

“Arthur—”

“You wouldn’t want a disappointment of a son working for you anyway,” Arthur interjected. “I’d just ruin the company name. I’m not good at business and I have no ambition, you said it yourself. It’s best this way.”

“But you have potential. You could be brilliant, you could—”

“I don’t _want_ to! Some days I wish my last name wasn’t even Pendragon just so people wouldn’t have all these bloody expectations. I’m _Arthur_ and I’m going to do what _I_ want.”

“And you want to be some dirty manual labourer? You want that life?”

“Yes! At this point I’d do anything just to get away from _you_!”

His father’s expression did shift a little at that, a subtle pushing together of the brows and a slight tilt of the mouth. The strained silence was deafening, and Arthur thought his father could hear his heart thudding in his chest.

“If that’s...if that’s what you want—”

“It is.”

“If you think it’ll make you happy—”

“It will.”

“Then I’d be wrong to stand in your way.”

Arthur blinked. Had his father just admitted to being wrong?

“There are a number of people that have expressed an interest in being CEO,” he continued. “People older, more well-suited. Perhaps...I had wished that the name Pendragon might carry on but it’s true we would still hold most of the company’s assets...”

Arthur shook his head. “I don’t want them. I don’t want anything to do with them.”

“I understand.”

Arthur furrowed his brow. “You do?”

“You’re more like me than you realise,” his father said, sighing. “I told my father the same thing when I was younger. I wanted to make a life for myself by myself. Haven’t you heard me say that countless times?”

“I mostly tuned you out, to be honest.”

Uther exhaled shortly, the closest thing to a snort Arthur had ever heard him make. “I’ll draw up a new contract and void the old one. It’ll transfer all your assets but won’t require you work for me.”

“Okay. Good.” Arthur reached down and picked up his box again. He was done here.

“You know what the media is going to do, don’t you?”

“Yeah. But at least I’ll be able to stand any damn way I please.” Arthur took a few steps to the right but his father followed, stopping him. He sighed. What now?

“You’re not a disappointment, Arthur.”

Arthur gaped.

“You’ve done things that have disappointed me, but you’ve never let me down as a son.”

Arthur couldn’t help it; his first thought was: _You’ve certainly let me down as a father._

He didn’t say that. He said, “I’m not going to have children.”

“I know.”

“You called me disgusting.”

“Do you think any differently of my sexual practises?”

“I wouldn’t say it to your face. You said I couldn’t get it right, that it wasn’t natural. You made me feel like some worthless insect that you couldn’t stand the sight of.”

“I _don’t_ think it’s natural, but that doesn’t make you worthless. You’re still my son and that counts for something. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way.”

Arthur’s arms were aching from holding the box so long, and his father’s words were too contradictory for him to make sense of them now. He just wanted to leave, to go to his new flat, to go _home_.

“Goodbye, Father.”

Uther didn’t stop him this time.

♫♪

“So I thought maybe...” Leon pulled two bottles of wine from behind his back, and Arthur broke out in a grin.

“Yes,” he said. “Excellent thinking, mate.”

Arthur plugged in his laptop in the living room, started up some music, and plopped down on the sofa.

His sofa. In his flat. He still couldn’t quite believe it.

They got takeaway and drank and shopped online for more things for his new home.

“You have to get an Xbox,” Leon said. “And a bigger telly, this one’s too small. Get one that’s like, the size of the wall. High quality graphics and all that shit.”

“I only have eight thousand pounds left,” Arthur said, giggling. “And if I get an Xbox I have to get games.”

“No shit, Arthur.”

“Oh, pillows! The ones there are terrible.”

“And loo roll. You have to pay to wipe your arse now, you know.”

“Fuck, what about my clothes? I think I have to _wash_ them...”

Leon guffawed. “Maybe you can get Merlin to wash them for you. Oh my God, I so see him as the housewife!”

Arthur swatted at him. “He is not the housewife.”

“Ah, you’re right, since he’s the one touring the world and bringing home the real money, he can’t be the housewife. You ought to learn to cook, Arthur.”

“Oh, shut up, neither of us are the bloody housewife,” he said. But he couldn’t help thinking of Merlin in an apron, and then Merlin in nothing but an apron, and then Merlin in nothing. By the time he got to that thought, however, he forgot why Leon was doubled over and laughing.

Around three in the morning, Arthur decided ringing Merlin was a solid plan. Leon had been in the loo forever—probably the takeaway didn’t agree with him—so Arthur had been bored until the idea struck. Before he thought much of it, he had his mobile out and Merlin on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Merlin!”

“Yes?”

“Hi.”

“Hi...”

“I, um. I wanted to call you. I don’t think there was a reason.”

Merlin laughed. “Are you pissed? You sound pissed.”

“Very much so, actually. I moved out!” he exclaimed, throwing his arm up. “And Leon bought wine. So drinking happened.”

“Congratulations. I was wondering how that worked out but didn’t want to be a bother and ask in case it wasn’t going well.”

“You can ask me anything, Merlin, I love you.”

“Oh my God.”

“Shit, fuck, pretend I didn’t just say that.” Arthur groaned and put his head in his hand. “I can’t believe I just—Ugh.”

“R-Right. I mean. Fuck. Um...So did you find a job yet!”

Arthur exhaled, glad to be past it. “No. But I know I want to be a carpenter. I’m going to call people tomorrow. Probably. If I’m not too hungover.”

“Oh, that’s good. Not the, er, hungover part, but that you know what you want to be. Carpentry sounds cool. Wood smells nice.”

“Yeah.”

“How did your father take the whole moving out thing?” Merlin asked.

“Not well. But then well. It was a confusing conversation.”

“Maybe I’ll have you tell me more about it when you’re sober. Oh shit, hang on—OI, YOU CAN’T JUST DROP THAT ANYWHERE, YOU KNOW, IT’S FUCKING FRAGILE! Fucking pothead,” he muttered. “So did you get disowned?”

Arthur had to pause a second, wondering if Merlin was talking to him or not. “Oh, no. I think he was always just threatening to do it, but never intended to.”

“Ah.”

“And he said I’m not a disappointment. Or disgusting. Actually, he was very tactful about it now that I recall. _I’m_ not disgusting, just the things I _do_ are disgusting. Which reminds me, have you ever been rimmed? Because I’ve thought a lot about what noises you might make with my tongue up—”

“A-Arthur, I’m about to go onstage!”

“Is that why it’s loud?”

“That would be the audience, yes.”

“Oh.”

“Fuck’s sake, Arthur, how am I gonna...I’m guessing that means it went moderately well?” Merlin asked, sighing. “With your father, I mean.”

“I’m not really sure where we left things. Too drunk to be bothered with it at the moment. But there’s a contract thing that has to happen.

“Right. A contract. Can’t say I didn’t expect any less from him. Okay, I have to go.”

“Okay, bye.”

Arthur decided to hide his phone after that. Or at least keep it out of sight, in the bedroom. Calling Merlin had _not_ been a solid plan; Arthur was fairly certain he was never going to live it down and didn’t even want to think about the things he’d said. He blamed Leon for not being there to talk him out of it.

♫♪

Arthur awoke to someone repeatedly poking him hard between the shoulder blades. He grunted but they didn’t stop.

“Arthur.”

“G’way, my head hurts,” he mumbled into his pillow.

“I brought you something for it.”

“Lemme sleep, I’ll take it later.”

“I just wanted to say I’m going home.”

“Okay, g’bye, leave me alone.”

“Are you gonna be okay? You don’t need me to tell you how to take the tube or anything?”

“Hilarious. I’ve taken the tube before.”

“Alright. Good luck with your job thing. And the cooking. And everything else. Ring me if you need help.”

“ _Leon_.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m leaving.”

Arthur couldn’t get back to sleep though, not with the pounding in his head. Eventually he admitted defeat and got up, rolling over and blinking his eyes open. He was lost for a moment at the unfamiliar sight before him, but then he remembered, and smiled despite the headache.

After taking something for the pain, and eating a few bites of leftover takeaway, Arthur took his laptop to his bedroom and pulled up the sites he’d bookmarked to get back to. He was a bit scared at first because he couldn’t start out with a false name this time, and it would get around fairly quickly that Arthur Pendragon had called about a job. But there was no getting around it, so with a racing heart, he punched in the number and began enquiring about positions.

Arthur hadn’t expected that he might get a job _because_ he was Arthur Pendragon, but that’s what happened on two of the five calls he made. They’d said he could come in to the worksite the next day to get started if he wanted, and that there were plenty of people who’d be willing to help teach him on the job. It made Arthur feel a bitter resentment in his chest; he didn’t want to be handed a position because of who he was, he wanted to earn it like everyone else. So he said he’d get back to them, with every intention not to get back to them.

The remaining three were better, though. One was actually rather to the point about not taking people with no experience or previous apprenticeships, which Arthur begrudgingly had to commend him for. But the other two seemed promising, and after choosing the one with the highest salary, Arthur suddenly found himself with an interview the next day.

After smiling a few minutes, pleased with the way things turned out and certain that Merlin would be proud of him, Arthur got up to go buy the necessary items for his new flat.

♫♪

“You said on the phone you’ve never used tools like these before?” Pellinore, the man leading the project, asked.

Arthur moved out the way of a swinging plank of wood, just barely missing get a concussion. The man who’d been passing had been topless, and _wow,_ there were a lot of fit blokes here.

“Er, yeah. Is that a problem?” Arthur asked.

“It’s not that we don’t have people who can’t instruct you. It’s mainly a liability thing. There’s loads of ways to get hurt on the job and we could be held responsible. I’m sure you understand.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“So naturally we’re cautious about who we take on.”

“I can get an apprenticeship while I work though, can’t I?”

Pellinore nodded. “You can. And you should.”

“I want to.”

“Good. Now, there’s a few people I have in mind who can help you get started in the meantime, people who aren’t behind in their area and who are friendly enough to be patient guides. Some people here will certainly look at you funny, maybe even glare at you at first, but just ignore them.”

Arthur was used to getting the occasional glare. He usually ignored them, too. “Alright.”

“Lancelot’s up on the second floor—he’s a good bloke, really nice, I think you’ll like him—just be careful on the stairs.”

♫♪

Lancelot was nice. He was friendly and patient, as Pellinore had said, and Arthur could tell right away he was the sort to be hardworking, to give each task his all. He showed Arthur how to use each tool as he needed them, and let Arthur try, saying things like “Steady,” and “Use a bit more force,” and “Wow, that was really smooth, you’re a natural!” So of course Arthur liked him immediately.

And he introduced Arthur to a couple others at lunch, his mates Percival and Gwaine. Gwaine was one of the ones to look at him funny at first, and seemed a bit antagonistic at the start, but by the end, he was talking to Arthur _almost_ like a friend.

Overall, Arthur counted his first day a success, and couldn’t wait to tell Merlin about it.

♫♪

Pellinore recommended a place for Arthur to get an apprenticeship, and it was when he was leaving that the media nightmare began. There were cameras and microphones and all these questions being asked at the same time, making Arthur want to scream. He couldn’t even walk at one point because someone had stepped directly in front of him, and he wondered if maybe he should’ve taken his father’s advice all those years ago and hired a bodyguard.

He didn’t want a bodyguard, though. He didn’t want to need one.

Eventually he just stopped, standing in the middle of the pavement, and waited until they all went expectantly quiet.

“I’ll only give one interview,” he said. “I’m not going to repeat myself a thousand times.”

Of course, they all started up again, vying for his attention. Arthur sighed, and scanned each face in the mob, finally pointing to a woman near the back only because she reminded him of Mithian.

“You.”

♫♪

Her name was Mora, and Arthur waited until Saturday to meet with her. After hesitantly checking Twitter, and discussing things with Merlin—who was now making his way back across the States—he had a good idea of what he was going to say.

He had expected a call from his father as well, but hadn’t heard from him. It wasn’t as though Arthur had a new mobile number, so he knew that couldn’t be the reason. Perhaps he was just getting the new contract together, or work had become suddenly busy. Arthur knew for a fact that his father had also been getting questions about Arthur’s new chosen path.

It was the first time Arthur was going to wear his own clothes on camera. He was a bit excited, but also a bit nervous. He couldn’t help remembering Leon said he looked like a gay hipster, and though the hipster part didn’t exactly bother him, it wasn’t supposed to be known that he was gay just yet. There was still a month left before Merlin was due to return home, when they’d both come out together as boyfriends. If people started questioning his sexuality now, it’d be one more thing for Arthur to worry about.

In the end, Arthur decided he was done doing things to suit other’s expectations, and didn’t try to avoid going with a tight pair of skinny jeans, or a top with a low v-neck. He didn’t search the clothes out, but he didn’t _avoid_ them. He closed his eyes and picked out the first garments he laid his hands on, and whatever fate had in mind, that’s what he’d wear.

He ended up wearing the same jeans he’d put on for Leon, and a black top in which he usually pushed the sleeves up to his elbows. He got more than a few double takes as he walked into the building, but tried his best to ignore it.

“Hi, hi!” Mora greeted him excitedly. She shook his hand almost vigorously, and Arthur hoped for a moment he hadn’t been wrong to choose her.

“Hello,” he said.

“Thank you so much for agreeing to an interview with me.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Right, well, let’s get started, shall we?”

Arthur took a seat in the chair across from her, resting his elbows on the armrests. One of the people wearing headphones handed him a mic to clip to his shirt, then disappeared behind the equipment.

“Alright, I suppose I’ll start with the most obvious question,” she began. “What did your father say when you told him you wanted to work in construction?”

Arthur had expected the first question to be something like that. “He was angry at first, and tried to keep me at home to work at Pendragon Industries. I told him that I’d never wanted anything to do with the business, and that it wasn’t for me.”

“Keep you at home? Do you mean to say you—”

“I moved to a flat, yes.”

“Why decide to move out on your own now?” she asked.

“I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life before, only that I didn’t want it to be business. I loathe the suits and the offices and the drudgery, and I’ve really always been an active person. I wanted to have a plan before finally getting my own place.”

“How’d you decide on construction?”

Arthur smiled. “A friend suggested it when I said I was good at maths but wanted to do something outside. I was sceptical at first, but then the idea started appealing to me more and more, so I thought I’d give it a try. I’m glad I decided to, because I really enjoy it.”

“Do you live alone, do you have a flatmate?”

“No, I live alone.”

“Won’t you get lonely?”

Ah, she was clever. Though really, all journalists were clever.

Arthur raised a brow. “Do _you_ live alone?” he asked.

Mora blinked, surprised at being asked a question herself. “I, yes, I do.”

“Are you lonely?”

“Well, I have a cat.”

“Maybe I’ll get a cat then.”

The rest of the interview was straightforward. She didn’t even ask about his attire, which Arthur was grateful for. She did ask if he planned to use any of his father’s wealth to help him, to which Arthur replied that he didn’t expect any help from his father. What he didn’t say was that he was surprised Uther hadn’t closed any of his business accounts, or pulled any of the money. There was always that to fall back on then, he supposed, but he didn’t want to rely on it.

After it was over, Arthur felt much lighter, and was glad to have it done with. He’d been dreading it since he first decided upon his new career, but it hadn’t been so bad. To be fair, it would probably be much worse once he finally came out with Merlin.

“Thank you again, Arthur,” Mora said, shaking his hand one more time.

“It was no problem.”

“This is, um...I mean I was wondering if perhaps you’d...like to get dinner with me?” she asked, blushing.

 _Oh, fuck._ “Oh, er, I’m sorry I’ll have to pass. Maybe another time?” By which Arthur meant ‘maybe never?’ and hoped she understood.

She nodded. “Alright.”

Arthur stifled a sigh of relief and turned to go. However, his relief was short-lived; there was a crowd of people outside the building waiting for him. He suddenly wished he’d gone with jeans a bit less skinny after all, if only to avoid what he was sure people online were going to say.

♫♪

Arthur was kept so busy with work, the apprenticeship, going out with Lance and the others whenever they invited him and time afforded, and steadfastly ignoring talk about himself on the internet, that he could hardly believe it when a month passed.

He’d met with his father at the Pendragon building to sign the new contract, but they hadn’t talked much, about which Arthur was unsure how to feel. It was nice that his father was allowing him to keep his distance, but he couldn’t help feeling like he was still doing his something wrong, something Uther didn’t approve of. It didn’t help that Arthur learnt most of what his father thought of his actions from articles and interviews, in which Uther always repeated that Arthur was his own man and allowed to make his own decisions, no matter what his views were on said decisions.

But then four weeks had come and gone, a month of work, new mates, and talking to Merlin whenever their schedules worked out best. He finally got the text.

 

_= about to board for heathrow. can’t wait to see you but can i have a few days to sleep? =_

_\- If you must. -_

_= i really must. i’m dead tired and want nothing more than my own bed =_

_\- Yeah, it’s fine, I’ll be really busy all week anyway. Let’s do Saturday. -_

_= sounds good =_

♫♪

Arthur had trouble getting to sleep Friday night. He was certainly tired enough, his day having been as exhaustingly productive as always. But he couldn’t contain his excitement—he was going to _meet_ Merlin Emrys, properly, for the first time. Well, the second time, but Arthur didn’t like to count the first.

And they were going to kiss and fuck and do all the perfectly amazing things that boyfriends did and that Arthur had dreamt of but never actually thought would happen. Thinking on it now, realising that no, it wasn’t a dream, Arthur couldn’t believe how far he’d come, how he’d gone from doing nothing but lustful gazing to actual interaction.

Arthur did somehow manage to get to sleep though, and woke up at nearly eleven. It was a slow waking up, the kind where his eyes opened before he realised he had them open, and spent a few minutes staring at the folds of his duvet.

And then it hit him all at once, making him sit straight up and causing his heart to start pounding in his chest.

 _Should I eat and then shower, or shower and then eat?_ Arthur wondered. _Maybe I could have breakfast there. No, I shouldn’t make him feed me, he probably doesn’t even have food in his flat after so long away. Oh, should I take_ him _breakfast? He’d probably really like that. Or maybe he’d be like me and just want to get right to the fucking. Or he’s already been awake for a while and already ate, in which case I should eat, then shower._

Arthur shook his head, chuckling at himself. It was still Merlin—he had to keep that in mind. The same Merlin who always called him a prat, and sent him silly photos of Freya and Elena, and wrote not one, but _two_ songs for him, and helped him find what he wanted to do with his life, and sang him to sleep. The same Merlin who loved texting with smiley faces, and forgot to cut his toenails, and was shy but friendly.

Exactly. It was still Merlin. Arthur had seen him plenty of times before...

In magazines and music videos and interviews and concerts and fan photos and posters...And now Arthur was going to talk to him. While looking him in the eye.

_Oh fuck, how am I gonna do this?_

♫♪

Arthur had had Merlin’s address for a few weeks, and had thought a couple times about making the trip before Merlin got back, just as a practise run or something, but then he thought that might be a bit weird, not to mention the fact that someone could take a photo of him in front of the building.

So when Arthur got there, hat low on his head in the attempt to cover most of his eyes, it was the first time. It seemed to be a nice enough building, even better than Arthur’s, and the lift didn’t smell like sweaty socks.

By the time Arthur was raising his hand to knock on the door, he realised he’d forgot to ring and tell Merlin he was coming. He hadn’t even bloody texted. He’d just ate, showered, shaved, and showed up.

Well, he couldn’t do anything about it now. He knocked.

There was silence for about ten seconds, then Arthur heard footsteps approaching the door. He suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t swallow, and his hands were sweaty, and now his armpits were getting sweaty because he was thinking about how his hands were sweaty.

“Who’s there?” It was Merlin’s voice, a voice Arthur would know anywhere, muffled through the door.

“Uh, Arthur.”

Oh, good. His voice worked.

“Uh, Arthur who?”

“Arthur Pendra—Oh my God, fuck you.”

And just like that Arthur was laughing, his nerves settled considerably though not completely, and he was still laughing when Merlin opened the door.

“Hi Arthur Pendra Oh My God Fuck You,” Merlin said, grinning.

Arthur’s heart soared, and it was like he could feel the months of communication solidifying between them to create something new and even more meaningful. He looked at Merlin—the _real_ Merlin—as though for the first time, wearing purple jeans and a grey t-shirt, hair longer than it was before and curling up at his ears. And he saw Merlin doing the same, taking in Arthur’s black jeans and red flannel shirt, the stupid black OBEY snapback on his head, and what was probably an equally stupid smile on his face.

It felt like he knew and didn’t know Merlin all at once, and he hoped Merlin had a clue about where to go from here, because he sure didn’t.

“Merlin, you idiot,” Arthur said, chuckling.

“Well I suppose you ought to come in, prat.”

Merlin stepped aside, opening the door further, and Arthur tried not to seem too affected, but who was he kidding, because Merlin already knew he had over a thousand photos of him—and his lower abdomen—on his computer.

Taking off his hat, he walked in, noticing first the row of guitars on the opposite wall behind the sofa, then all the posters on the wall, on _every_ wall, like some sort of teenager’s bedroom except throughout the whole flat. Many bands Arthur knew—like Metallica, Panic at the Disco, Radiohead—but others he didn’t—like Operahouse, 1990s, Arcade Fire—and he wondered how many concerts Merlin had been to. All the posters were framed though, in the same uniform silver throughout, so it wasn’t too like a bedroom where they were just taped to the wall. There did seem to be somewhat of an elegance to it.

The next thing Arthur noticed was that the place was well-lit. Really well-lit. Like Merlin was afraid of the dark.

“I, er, tried to clean up,” Merlin said behind him. “Everything was just the way I left it before I went to the US, and you know, gone for three months, it seemed to have glazed over or something,” he finished chuckling.

Arthur shrugged, turning around. “Can’t say my place is much better. I haven’t even been there long and it’s a mess.”

“Already dirtied it up then? That’s a shame, it sounded so nice from what you told me about it.”

“It’s still nice. Came with wifi and everything. There’s just...a lot of dishes in the sink and the shower’s not exactly as white as it was.”

Merlin laughed. “Maybe you should clean it?”

“Yeah...Not sure what product to use though. I didn’t think showers could even get dirty. If I’m using soap to clean myself, shouldn’t the shower get clean at the same time? Since the water makes it like, splash everywhere?”

Merlin put his face in his hand, and Arthur could hear him snickering. “You’re lucky you have your looks, Arthur.”

“Shut up, it makes sense!” Arthur wasn’t too angry though, not when it was Merlin laughing, his beautiful fingers splayed over his face.

Merlin lowered his hand, still chuckling, and shook his head. “Right. Perfect se—Oh my God, you do stand with your hand on your hip!”

Arthur instantly looked down, and had to fight the instinct to drop his hand. “Yeah, well. That’s nothing new. I’m sure there’s photos of me doing it all over the place.”

“Yes, but it’s different to see you actually do it.”

“Are you going to show me your place or not, Merlin?”

Merlin giggled. “You waved your hand that time, too.”

Arthur hadn’t even realised, and at that he did blush, though he tried hard not to. “I was...gesturing to the flat...encompassing it, you know...Shut up!”

Merlin laughed again, shaking his head as he walked over to Arthur and took his hand. “Alright, come on. This is just the living area and it’s boring. I hardly ever spend time in here.”

Arthur tried to breathe normally as they walked through the flat, telling himself to stay calm and that it was just _Merlin_ ’s hand he was holding. His palms were sweaty but it was sort of okay because Merlin’s palm seemed sweaty too, and Arthur had to remind himself that Merlin had liked him a whole year before he even knew Merlin existed. They were practically on the same page, though Arthur had a feeling he was much worse off than Merlin.

“I spend most of my time in here,” Merlin said as they entered a room near the back.

It had even more guitars, a keyboard, and two computers, along with various types of recording microphones and a couple music stands. There was also a large TV on the wall and a bookshelf lined with what looked like DVDs and video games. Arthur couldn’t even see the white of the walls because of how many posters decorated it, no frames this time, just tape or pins or sometimes even slid into the folds of another. There was a small sofa in front of the TV, with one of Merlin’s guitars propped up on one of the armrests.

“It doesn’t usually look like this,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s usually cords and shit everywhere, but it’s weird really, this is the one room I clean before going on tour. The others I can’t be arsed.”

Arthur didn’t know what to say. The room was brilliant, amazing, spectacular. He was so incredibly jealous of all the posters, and wanted to spend hours just looking at them.

He walked around the sofa though, pulling Merlin silently along with him since they were still holding hands. He wasn’t sure if he _could_ touch the guitar draped across the sofa, but he took a chance and ran his finger over the fretboard.

He’d seen Merlin play this guitar in concert. And now he was _touching_ it. Fuck, he was touching _Merlin_.

“Arthur, just—” Merlin stopped when Arthur looked up, immediately pulling his hand away. “You can, it’s fine, just...God, just be careful. Don’t touch the tuning knobs, okay? I’m really particular about them.”

Arthur smirked. “Particular about your knobs?”

“Oh, ha ha.”

Arthur lowered his hand again, running a finger over the body this time. It was smooth with a glossy finish, the tricolour burst beautifully mesmerising. The blue, purple, and black seemed to fade into each other, and the shape of the body, curved at the bottom before flaring up at the top, made it look like a blue flame.

“That one’s not even the best one,” Merlin said, sounding excited. He pulled Arthur over to the other wall and pointed. “This one glows in the dark. It has these strips of light running along it, see? And this one—I’ve really only played it a handful of times because just _look_ at it—I had it custom made so it’s like a cool Victorian, steampunk type guitar, right? It’s so fucking ace, seriously, I would’ve made love to it if I could when I first got it. And this one is my vintage maple, the fretboard is so damn smooth, and I know a few people who don’t like playing maple fretboards but...”

Arthur had never heard Merlin talk so much at one time. He talked fast and loud and moved his hand around a lot—because the right was still loosely held in Arthur’s left—and pointed to things, from the intricate designs on the vintage mother of pearl electric to the sloping curves on the ribcage acoustic. Arthur got lost rather early on, so he focused on the sound of Merlin’s voice and the feeling of his hand while observing all the details he could about each instrument.

“Which of these have you played in concerts?” Arthur asked after Merlin finished the last one.

Merlin laughed. “Besides the one on the sofa? None of them. The ones in here aren’t concert guitars. I’d never let them leave this room.”

“So you’re just, what, collecting them?”

“Yeah, sort of. I’ve always wanted lots of cool guitars, but couldn’t buy many when I was younger. Now that I have the money, I can.”

“Do you ever play them?”

“Oh, of course. I’d never let them just sit there on the wall. I take one down every so often to just sort of mess around on, make sure it’s in tune and the strings are relatively new, or hasn’t acquired much dust. I’ve recorded a couple songs with some of them just because their sound is so unique. But not in the studio. Over there, on my computer,” he said, pointing.

“I’m guessing you record a lot.”

Merlin nodded. “Loads. There’s probably dozens of songs on there that the public either hasn’t heard or never will hear. It’s also how I was able to get your song online so quickly, because I already had it recorded.”

Arthur furrowed his brow at first, because he didn’t have a song. Then he remembered and his heart started racing again. _That_ song.

“Oh,” he said.

It was the first mention of their actual relationship, and Merlin seemed to realise it too, because he was blushing a little and looking down awkwardly. But where did things go from here? There had to be a way to kickstart them out of whatever weird limbo this was.

And apparently it was up to Arthur.

“I meant to say,” Arthur began, making Merlin look back up. “That night. When I came up to you after the concert. I, er, never told you what I was going to tell you.”

Merlin’s brow furrowed in curiosity. “Oh, yeah. Wow, it’s been months though.”

“Yeah. It just slipped my mind really, and it’s nothing you don’t already know anyway, but...Your song...or my song, I dunno, _that_ song...I’d meant to tell you that I really liked it. That’s...That’s it.”

“Oh.”

Arthur took a deep breath and made himself go on, trying to get it all out in one go. “And when you were there singing it, I thought...it was ridiculous, but I’d hoped you were singing it about me, and it felt like you were when you looked at me, so when you told me that it _was_ for—”

He was incredibly relieved when Merlin kissed him because he had no idea where he’d been going with that sentence, and was sure to make a fool of himself if he continued. But he was also thrilled and excited and screaming _YES YES YES_ in his head because this was Merlin he was kissing, and it was wonderful, it was amazing, a thousand times better than in Arthur’s dreams.

When Merlin’s hand slid around the back of his neck, it was as though he could feel every individual callus, while the other rose to settle on Arthur’s hip, pulling him closer. Arthur was mostly preoccupied with the fact that Merlin’s lips were slotted in his, giving the bottom one the tiniest little suck before pushing forward and pressing fully against his mouth again. So preoccupied, that he forgot he had hands himself, and they just hung by his sides until Merlin took a little step forward and Arthur’s hands brushed Merlin’s thighs. Then Arthur remembered.

With the introduction of Arthur’s hands, came urgency. The kiss wasn’t slow once Arthur curled his arms around Merlin’s waist, hugging him as close as possible and feeling the solid warmth of _Merlin_ all down his front. It was dirty and wet and uncoordinated, but perfect all the same because there was hot breath being shared and the filthy slide of tongue and lips coming together. It made Arthur hot all over, from the inside out, and the only thing that made him think the frantic beating of his heart was okay was the fact that he could feel Merlin’s beating just as quickly.

Arthur didn’t know who decided it should end, but suddenly they were separated, and Merlin was chuckling breathlessly into Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur felt Merlin’s fingers carding through the hair on the back of his head, and for some reason it was that that tugged at Arthur’s heart, such a small, thoughtless, repetitive movement.

When he heard Merlin’s voice, it was soft, hoarse, almost a whisper.

“There’s one room I still haven’t showed you yet.”

♫♪

At some point, Arthur lost his hat. He didn’t know when, but he couldn’t remember having it when walking into the guitar room, and he definitely didn’t have it now, pressed up against Merlin’s bedroom wall being snogged just as thoroughly as before. It was probably fine though. It was just one stupid hat, and he could always find it later.

Then Merlin started undoing the buttons of Arthur’s shirt, lips never parting from his for a second. Arthur could definitely find his hat later.

He was about to ask the question that he’d been dying to ask for ages when Merlin pulled away to take his own shirt off. Arthur’s concentration went out the window when he saw all that skin exposed, not in any photo or video, but here, in front of him, where he could touch. The same body he’d wanked to countless times over the past two and a half years. He let his question wait until after he’d rid himself of the rest of his bothersome clothing.

Arthur thought maybe he heard a squeaking noise as his pants fell to the floor, but blood was rushing through his ears and his heart was beating so fast that he couldn’t be sure. Then Merlin’s hand gripped his shoulder, fingers clutching almost painfully, and when Arthur looked up, Merlin’s brow was furrowed in an expression Arthur couldn’t place, his eyes looking down.

“Ohmygod,” Merlin breathed. “ _Oh_ my God.”

Arthur wasn’t sure what was going on, if Merlin was going to have a panic attack, or something, but it didn’t seem like Merlin was too unwell, so Arthur took a chance and asked his question.

“How do you, uh. How do you want it?”

Merlin looked up then, his face smoothing out for the most part save a few small lines in his forehead, and his grip on Arthur’s shoulder loosened, but his other hand came up to grab the other one. Suddenly he pulled Arthur off the wall, turning them both in a circle before walking him backwards to the bed.

“With you inside me.”

Arthur fell back on the bed with a sharp exhale. He didn’t know what answer he’d been hoping for, but he felt a small feeling of dread at having to top, because that meant he had to last, and he really wasn’t sure he could at the moment. Just the thought of being inside Merlin already had him quivering and breathless.

“O-Okay.”

Merlin went at the button of his jeans, looking down at Arthur with wide eyes while biting his lip. Arthur thought for a moment he could feel Merlin’s gaze like a phantom hand dragging down his body, running callused fingers over his skin. And that hand seemed to latch right onto his cock when Merlin shoved down his jeans and pants, because here was the object of all his wank fantasies naked in front of him.

Arthur had to close his eyes and breathe. Just for a few seconds.

Merlin said his name a few seconds later, his slightly amused face hovering above Arthur’s. “Arthur? You weren’t seriously about to go to sleep on me, were you?”

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. “No, sorry, just needed a second.”

“Ha, yeah, I understand. You can have a few more seconds while I get myself ready for you.”

Arthur almost opened his mouth to object, because he didn’t want Merlin to have to do it himself, and would’ve been happy to any other time. But if he saw his fingers in Merlin’s arse, felt the all-encompassing heat that was soon to envelope his cock, he’d have even more trouble lasting than he already was. So Arthur nodded, hoping Merlin didn’t think him careless or rude, and closed his eyes as he tried to think of things that would bring him back from the edge, anything to have him not so fucking hard.

But he could _hear_ Merlin, his little grunts and gasps, and he could feel him on the bed beside him, shifting his weight around. Arthur had his imagination, and his imagination was very vivid.

Then Arthur felt something land on his stomach and opened his eyes.

“Hurry up,” Merlin said, moving up the bed a little to lay back on the pillows. “Please.”

Arthur took several deep breaths as he put on the condom with trembling fingers. _I’m in bed with Merlin Emrys_ , he thought. _I’m going to fuck Merlin Emrys. He’s going to have to my cock inside him. And I’m going to embarrass myself._

Arthur rolled over, shuffling onto his knees and bringing himself between Merlin’s parted legs. He’d done this before. He’d fucked men before. If he just didn’t look at Merlin’s face, if he focused on just the act itself, he’d be fine.

So there was an arse. Not Merlin’s arse, just an arse. And there was a cock, laying perfectly beautiful and long across a perfectly pale abdomen—Not Merlin’s, certainly not anyone Arthur had daydreams about—and there it was, hard and in need of release. Which Arthur would give.

Arthur put a hand under Not Merlin’s knee, pushing his leg up a bit more for better access to his arse. He wrapped a hand around the base of his cock, lined up, and pushed in, in...

 _Not Merlin, not Merlin, not Merlin_...

He thought of old people, and three-legged dogs, and mouldy bread. He didn’t think of the hitch of breath coming from below, the curling of toes right by his ear, or the gradual slide and tightening around his cock. He thought of pickles, and peeling scabs, and homeless people. And he definitely did not think about the moaning, the leg wrapping around his thigh urging him to go deeper faster, or the contented wrecked sigh that escaped both of them when Arthur finally bottomed out.

 _Not Merlin, not Merlin, not Merlin_...

Arthur only raised his eyes as far as Not Merlin’s navel as he started thrusting, to avoid seeing Not Merlin’s face. He could do it as long as this wasn’t Merlin, at least the first time. The second time he wouldn’t come nearly as soon.

But this couldn’t be Merlin he was fucking, couldn’t be Merlin he was pumping into with steadily faster jerks of his hips, movement quick enough to expel little gasps of breath. If this was Merlin who was digging his heels into Arthur’s arse, who was clutching Arthur’s forearms as though with the intent to maim, then Arthur would be fucked.

“Ah, Arthur, fuck, _fuck_...”

There was no way Arthur could pretend that wasn’t Merlin’s voice, no matter how breathy and high-pitched. That was _Merlin_ saying his name like that, and when Arthur flicked his eyes up to Merlin’s face, only barely visible because of how far his head was thrown back, Arthur thought, _It’s Merlin, it’s Merlin, fuck, it’s Merlin_.

He couldn’t stop it, but for a few seconds, he didn’t care, because this was Merlin his cock was throbbing in, and even if Merlin thought him ridiculous or unworthy afterward, he’d still be able to say he fucked Merlin Emrys, and no one could take that from him.

Merlin looked up at him when he stilled. “Did you just—”

“Yeah, fuck, I’m so sorry, I—”

One of Merlin’s hands grabbed Arthur’s hair and pulled him down, and Arthur didn’t know what the fuck was going on. “It’s fine, just suck my cock,” Merlin said, pushing Arthur’s head down.

Arthur had no choice but to slip out, what with his head being so pushed around, and then Merlin’s cock was in his face, right in front of his nose. But he definitely had no problem with this alternative, and gave it one long lick up the underside before tilting it up and swallowing it down.

Merlin gasped, the sharp inhale turning quickly into a moan, and Arthur had to hold down his hips to keep him from thrusting up. Merlin was long enough as it was, and Arthur just needed to work himself up to taking a bit more first.

“Fingers, fuck, gimme your fingers, as many’ll fit, just stick ‘em in,” Merlin panted. Arthur raised his gaze just in time to see Merlin throw an arm over his eyes and Merlin groaned. “Oh my God, that sounded so dirty and stupid, I’m sorry.”

Arthur didn’t really think so. He thought it sounded hot. He pulled off Merlin’s cock and sat up, looking for the lube Merlin must’ve used on himself earlier while taking off the condom in the meantime.

Merlin keened when Arthur pushed two slick fingers inside. “Y-Y-Yeah, that’s—that’s good, okay, fuck—”

Arthur went back to Merlin’s cock, taking the glistening head between his lips and sliding down as far as he could. The rest of the length he stroked with his hand, and because there was still some room left in Merlin’s arse, Arthur pushed a third finger in, pumping and twisting as he swirled his tongue over Merlin’s dick.

Arthur looked up when Merlin made a noise that sounded a bit like a sob, and saw Merlin’s chest heaving with each laboured breath, one arm raised over his head with his fingers curled around the headboard. He was shaking a bit as well, but when he finally seemed to give in and push his hips up, forcing himself deeper down Arthur’s throat, the shaking settled.

Arthur nearly gagged, but tried to breathe slowly through his nose and keep it up. He could taste precome on his tongue, even more so when Merlin lowered his hips down on Arthur’s fingers, fucking himself and moaning.

That struck up a rhythm, and Arthur didn’t try to fight it. He let Merlin use him, use his mouth and fingers, and hollowed his cheeks as much as he could, even when he started drooling and his lips started chapping. He kept his fingers curled just right, caught on to Merlin’s tempo and fell into it, enjoying Merlin’s raspy mantra of “yeah, yeah, yeah” that kept time with every thrust of hips.

Arthur knew Merlin was close when his arse clenched around his fingers. When he suddenly felt Merlin yanking his hair again, he let Merlin slip free easily, just as the first pulse shot from Merlin’s cock, Merlin’s spine arching as he came.

Arthur was pretty sure it was the most beautiful thing he would ever see in his life.

“Fuck,” Merlin exhaled, dropping to the bed. Arthur slid his fingers out and crawled up the bed to lay beside him. “I can’t believe I just had sex with Arthur Pendragon.”

_What?_

“You...what?”

Merlin’s eyes widened and he look horrified. “Oh my God, I didn’t say that out loud.”

Arthur blinked. “Um, yes you did.”

“No, I didn’t. Shut up. I didn’t say anything.” Merlin put his face in his hands and groaned, his head sinking back so deep into the pillows that Arthur almost couldn’t see him.

_Wait...what?_

Arthur sat up. “Hold on, why can’t _you_ believe it?”

Merlin rolled onto his side, curling in a ball, and his voice came out muffled. “Shut up shut up shut up. You already know I liked you, now you’re just being a prat as always.”

Arthur huffed and reached out to turn Merlin over. When Merlin insisted on being stubborn, he crawled over him, putting his face directly in front.

“Merlin, seriously. I know why I can’t believe it, but why can’t you?”

Merlin’s hands fell away, and he stared up at Arthur angrily. “What fucking reason would you have not to believe it?”

Arthur gaped. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No!”

“What reason would _you_ have?”

“Arthur, you’re...you’re Arthur!”

Arthur sighed. “You lost me.”

“As in you were one of the most eligible bachelors a couple years ago, and you’ve been in magazines—”

“ _You’ve_ been in magazines.”

“But all I do is play guitar and sing!”

“And all I do is have money! Which I don’t even really have anymore!”

“How do you not even see...What?”

“Are you fucking kidding me? You’re Merlin Emrys and you think I’m _something_?”

“Oh my God, Arthur, you’re fucking everything!”

Arthur moved back, trying to catch his breath. This wasn’t right. He was just Arthur. And Merlin was...He was Merlin!

“Okay,” Merlin said, sitting up. “Look. I thought you knew. I told you I’d liked you for years. I sort of left out the embarrassing stuff, but who else writes a song for someone they don’t even really know? I’m...I might have been a little obsessed.”

Arthur snapped his head up. “You were what?”

Merlin put his hands up. “Not like stalker obsessed, okay? I’d never do that, I just...There’s this page I have, torn from a magazine you were in, right? And I’ve had it forever, it’s wrinkled and frayed, and really just falling apart, but I take it everywhere with me, even to the grocery—”

“Oh my God.”

“Don’t freak out, but I...I sort of kiss it before every concert, for good luck, you know? I know it sounds weird, but—”

“You think that’s weird, but all the photos I have of you aren’t?” Arthur asked.

“What?”

“Merlin, you know I have over a thousand photos of you. What the hell do you think I do with them?”

Merlin’s brows pushed together, and he tilted his head a bit. “I never really thought about it.”

Arthur couldn’t believe he was about to say this. “Well, I stare at them. And sometimes I do more than stare at them.”

It was Merlin’s turn to gape. “You...”

“I used to a lot, but lately I’ve been really busy. I have favourites. I listen to your songs so I can have your voice in my ear while I do it. I’ve watched all your music videos, all your interviews and concert recordings dozens of times. Just now I couldn’t even keep from coming too early because you’re you!”

Merlin just stared at him blankly a few seconds, but then he started laughing, and fell back to the bed. Arthur was still a little stunned—he’d just fucked Merlin Emrys, who was apparently just as obsessed as he was, and who was now naked, come still on his chest, laughing hysterically.

Then Arthur felt kind of stupid. He’d been telling himself this whole time that Merlin was just a person, and it’d been easy to get comfortable with him over phone conversations. But now, in the flesh, Merlin was just a _person_.

“Oh.”

Merlin only laughed harder, until he was wheezing and his face was red. Okay, it was a little funny, but nothing to get breathless over.

 _So if Merlin’s a person_ , Arthur thought, _and Merlin’s my boyfriend...I can touch him._

He could. Arthur could touch him.

Merlin was still laughing, not quite as hard but certainly giggling, so Arthur reached out tentatively, placing his hand just above Merlin’s left calf. Merlin’s eyes were closed, so it wouldn’t be until Arthur lowered his hand and made contact that anything would happen.

Slowly, Arthur lowered his hand, fitting it naturally around the curve of Merlin’s leg.

Merlin didn’t stop laughing right away—Arthur didn’t think he could—but his eyes did open. His chuckling faded away as Arthur dared to slide his hand up, and by the time Arthur was just past Merlin’s knee it was gone altogether, Merlin’s expression replaced by wide-eyed wonder.

It felt like any other leg, warm, and rough with hair, nothing entirely special about it. Even though Arthur had imagined running his hands up these same legs countless times before, had dreamt of them wrapped around him, and in the air, and even on either side of his face while he lay between them, it was still just a pair of legs.

Merlin’s eyes stayed locked on Arthur’s rising hand, and Arthur didn’t know if the deep breathing was left over from laughing so hard or from what was currently happening. But when Merlin reached for Arthur’s hand, curling slim fingers around Arthur’s wrist, his hand wasn’t shaking, which Arthur took to be a good sign.

Merlin just kept a loose hold on Arthur’s wrist at first, not doing anything as Arthur continued going up and up, nearing the V of Merlin’s legs. But then he tightened his hold a bit and pulled, making Arthur’s hand slide up his skin faster, over coarse hair, over hipbone, around the come on his chest, until Arthur had to shuffle forward a bit on his knees.

Arthur didn’t know where Merlin was going with their hands until they reached their destination. He ended up cupping Merlin’s cheek, face hovering right in front of his again.

“So...just Arthur is touching just Merlin,” Merlin said, breath ghosting over Arthur’s lips.

“I guess so, yeah.”

Merlin’s other hand touched Arthur’s arm, where he was using it to hold himself up on the bed. It slid up from the forearm to the shoulder, fingers curling around and squeezing his bicep a little.

“And just Merlin is touching just Arthur.”

Arthur chuckled a little, and Merlin joined him. “Yeah,” Arthur said.

Merlin’s hand slid over Arthur’s shoulder, up his neck to cradle Arthur’s face as Arthur was doing to him. Arthur leaned forward a bit, already knowing where Merlin was headed.

“And if just Merlin wants to kiss just Arthur...then he can.”

They were already kissing, or nearly, their lips brushing softly. Arthur dipped his head, rubbing his nose lightly against the side of Merlin’s, and he could feel Merlin’s eyelashes tickling his cheek when he blinked.

“Whenever he wants,” Arthur said.

The kiss started out as soft as the first, but escalated quickly. Arthur could tell Merlin was more confident when he brought tongue into things early on, licking into Arthur’s mouth and capturing his upper lip. Arthur lowered his knees a bit to lay more comfortably atop him, and the angle made things better as well, allowed Arthur to tilt his head a bit and delve deeper, his tongue sliding alongside Merlin’s.

When cocks got involved, it felt like they had been the whole time. Arthur had his balls resting over Merlin’s shaft, and when he let a little more weight drop, when he gave a little jerk of his hips down and forward, Merlin moaned, bucking up to meet him. They weren’t hard yet, but they were certainly getting there, and Arthur could feel it as Merlin swelled up beneath him, thickening with each passing second right along with him.

“Again,” Merlin panted. “Fuck me again.”

Arthur could do that. He could definitely do that, now and whenever else Merlin might need it. It was what he lived for, at least in that moment, and the idea wasn’t nearly as frightening as before.

“Need another condom,” Arthur pointed out. “And you probably need more lube.”

Merlin groaned, but kissed Arthur one last time before pulling away and slipping from under him. Arthur couldn’t help smiling as he rolled onto his back again, staring at the long line of Merlin’s body as he reached for what they needed.

“You’re not allowed to come early this time,” Merlin said, swinging a leg over to sit astride Arthur.

Arthur took the condom from Merlin while he coated his fingers in lube. “Always easier the second time,” he said. “Especially now I know you’re just an ordinary idiot.”

Merlin snorted, rolling his eyes as he reached behind himself. “And you’re just an ordinary prat. With an admittedly extraordinary cock.”

Arthur laughed. “Why thank you, Merlin, your cock is quite nice too.”

Merlin turned a bit serious, looking down at where Arthur was putting the condom on. “I’ve imagined yours a lot,” he murmured.

Arthur had to take a deep breath, telling himself that he’d feel the same effect if _anyone_ confessed to thinking about his cock often.

“Yeah. Same. Come on.”

Merlin lifted his arse, leaning forward to take Arthur inside. He let out a shuddered breath when the tip slid in, moaning as it went deeper and deeper.

“Yeah, and...and apparently you think...a lot about your tongue up my arse as well,” he managed.

Arthur groaned. “I still can’t believe I said that.”

“Don’t get me wrong, it was hot. Just inconvenient. Onstage with a hard-on, you know. Not the best timing.”

Arthur grunted in reply, because now that he was fully inside Merlin again, he wasn’t capable of saying much more. He let his hands settle on Merlin’s hips, fingers in the flesh of Merlin’s arse, and raised his knees a bit to get more comfortable. Merlin used the movement as momentum, working his hips up and down in smooth, fluid motions.

“Fuck,” Merlin sighed, letting his head fall back. “You’ve no idea how long I’ve wanted to ride you.”

The tension in Arthur’s groin skyrocketed at that, and it really should’ve been illegal for anyone’s body to move the way Merlin’s was. He wished he could capture the moment forever, to have on record the sight of Merlin’s lean frame undulating on top of him, taking his cock in as far as it could go.

He wanted to thrust up—he even had his feet braced on the bed in preparation—but he wanted Merlin to do what he wanted too, at least at first. He was content to let Merlin control the speed, because Merlin did look beautiful doing it, especially when he finally started fucking himself on Arthur’s cock in earnest.

Merlin leaned forward at first, one of his hands flat on Arthur’s chest with the other on the bed. His head was tilted forward now, and Arthur could see the sheen of sweat on his upper lip, could see where thin strands of hair were starting to stick to his forehead. Arthur reached up on impulse, running his fingers through Merlin’s sweaty fringe and brushing it to the side. Merlin’s only reaction was to glance up at him and chuckle before repeating the action himself.

But then Merlin apparently decided it’d be easier to lean back, and braced himself with a hand on each of Arthur’s thighs. The movements weren’t smooth then; they were quick, forceful, and punctuated with slaps of skin that nearly drowned out Merlin’s gasps. There was hardly any room for Arthur’s hands with Merlin in that position, so Arthur had no choice but to move them, and considering Merlin had a perfectly lovely chest to touch, that’s where Arthur put them.

He did the favour of brushing off the dried, flaking come still there as well, before sliding steadily up. He had to touch Merlin’s nipples, because they were so dark and pebbled and begging for attention, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t touched them yet.

“Ah!”

Merlin’s head whipped forward, and he looked straight at Arthur with a wrecked expression, even as he kept rocking up and down.

“Don’t...Don’t, Arthur. Want to...last just a bit longer.”

The trouble was that Arthur didn’t think _he_ could last a bit longer, not with Merlin bouncing on his cock like that, tight and perfect and as fast as he was going. He’d stretched it out just about as long as he could endure it, and was grateful he’d even made it this far.

So Arthur ignored him; he ran his hands up Merlin’s chest again, stopping when the tips of his forefingers grazed the small nubs, and moved them in circles, steadily adding pressure despite Merlin’s attempts to retreat.

“Oh, oh God, ohgodfuck, Arthur you can’t, I’m gonna, gonna...”

There was no more leaning back, there was only leaning forward, hunched over, and Merlin’s eyes squeezed shut as he made more noises that sounded like sobs, hands curled uselessly on Arthur’s chest. Arthur was done, he was completely done, couldn’t handle hearing Merlin like that, seeing him like that, and as he finally peaked, pleasure coiling and exploding in one white hot burst, he pinched Merlin’s nipples and twisted.

Merlin’s mouth went wide, his lips a stretched and quivering “O,” but there was silence when Arthur expected sound, the only noise the loud, repeated inhale and exhale of air as Merlin clenched around Arthur’s cock and came.

Arthur let his knees drop, and luckily Merlin was coherent enough to get the hint. Merlin rolled over onto his back, huffing for air beside Arthur, and was probably just as stunned as he was.

“I think,” Arthur said when he got most of his breath back, “I’m going to update your wikipedia page.”

“Arthur...”

“Right in the opening paragraph. Born in Essex, England. Has sensitive nipples.”

Merlin slapped his arm, but it was rather half-hearted in his fatigue. “Fuck off.”

Arthur chuckled and took off the condom, tossing it to the foot of the bed with the other one before laying back. “Do you really kiss a photo of me before every concert?” he asked.

Merlin’s lips twitched in half a smile. “Yeah, I do. Do you really have a photo of my stomach on your computer?”

“It’s not even really your stomach. It’s...” Arthur moved his hand to low on Merlin’s waist, just above where the tuft of wiry curls began. “Here.”

“Oh. That makes a lot more sense now.”

“No, I’m lying, I have a stomach fetish.”

“I knew it.”

Arthur laughed and dragged the back of his knuckles up Merlin’s front, over his stomach and up his chest, slow enough to make the muscles in Merlin’s abdomen quiver at the touch. He stopped when he got to Merlin’s nipples, letting the second knuckle of his first finger rest on top.

Merlin exhaled shakily and his eyes slid closed. “Arthur...”

Arthur grinned and slid closer, even though he still had Merlin’s come on his skin, even though he was pretty sure they were both filthy.

“It’s always brilliant hearing you say my name,” Arthur confessed, moving his hand across Merlin’s chest to wrap an arm around him. Merlin opened his eyes and stared at him. “Because I’ve listened to your songs so much. Whenever I was angry or sad or happy or bored. There’s so many times in my life that have your voice associated with it, and I still can’t really believe I’m dating you.”

Merlin grinned back and rolled onto his side, sliding a leg between Arthur’s and curling an arm around him as well. “Are you my biggest fan, Arthur?”

“Definitely. Just don’t let it go to your head.”

“I think I’m probably yours.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “I told you I don’t have fans.”

“Well, you have a mass of people that think you’re amazingly fit. And I’m at the top of the list.”

Arthur swivelled his thumb in circles, playing over Merlin’s hipbone. “You know...this relationship probably isn’t healthy. Us being obsessed with one another and whatnot.”

Merlin hummed thoughtfully. “I dunno. I think we’ve talked enough for it not to be weird. And I don’t think I’ll want to leave you when the novelty wears off.”

Arthur didn’t think he would either. He knew the Merlin underneath the public image, and both were brilliant.

Which reminded him of the other concern.

“How are we going—”

“When should we—”

Merlin laughed, and Arthur had a feeling it was because they’d both been about to say the same thing.

Arthur started again. “How are we going to come out?”

“Hmm. Hold my hand in public? Or I’ll bring lunch to the construction site?”

Arthur groaned. “No, don’t. I’ve only just got people to stop taking photos of me at work and my mates take the piss out of me all the time about it.”

Merlin chuckled. “Hand holding then.”

“Or kissing.”

“Your father might hire someone to kill me if there’s photos of us kissing going around.”

Arthur’s stomach churned. He’d completely forgot about his father. “Oh. You don’t think it’s a good idea then?”

“It’s up to you, honestly. I just know that things are still weird between the two of you and wouldn’t want to do anything drastic to make it worse when we could easily do something subtle.”

Arthur sighed and buried his face in the pillow. He knew his father wouldn’t come to him; it was up to Arthur to attempt to bridge the gap between them if it were to ever happen. But every time he talked to his father, or even thought about him, he started feeling like a disappointment again, and it was like he could already see Uther’s disapproving glare in his mind’s eye. He just wanted to avoid feeling that gaze for a while longer.

“We’ll keep it simple,” Arthur said, turning his head back to Merlin. “You’ll come out on Twitter and mention me as your boyfriend.”

Merlin shrugged and smiled. “Okay.”

Merlin’s smile was infectious, it really was, and Arthur couldn’t help grinning as well. Then, because he could, he surged forward, rolling Merlin onto his back, and stared down at him.

It was still kind of surreal being able to feel Merlin like this, warm and solid beneath him. He could feel Merlin’s limp cock against his thigh, Merlin’s steady exhales as he breathed, and Merlin’s arms around him, holding him in place. He could reach up and touch Merlin’s face if he wanted (which he did) and he could lean down and kiss Merlin’s perfect lips if he wanted (which he also did) and he could moan when Merlin’s hands slid to his arse, squeezing possessively (which he definitely did).

“One more time?” Arthur asked breathlessly.

“God, yes. Only I don’t think I can get it up quite yet. And I think my arse is done.”

“That’s fine. There’s always my arse.”

“Yeah.” Merlin looked down and chuckled. “Fuck, look at us. You’ve got my come all over you. _I’ve_ got my come all over me.”

“It’s your fault.”

“Of course it is.”

Arthur put his lips to Merlin’s neck, kissing down to a collarbone. “No point cleaning up yet though.”

“Suppose not,” Merlin murmured, arching up.

Arthur moved down, leaving a path of wet kisses all the way to a nipple. Merlin inhaled sharply when Arthur closed his mouth over it, his fingers digging into Arthur’s skin.

“A-Arthur,” he breathed. Arthur felt a feeble push on his arms and looked up, pulling his mouth away. “While we wait for the whole, er, cock situation...There’s something I want to show you.”

“Okay...”

“I wouldn’t bother getting dressed. But, uh, should probably at least wipe off or something. Bit uncomfortable.”

“Sure.”

♫♪

Arthur didn’t know what they were doing back in the guitar room, and now that the heat of the moment had passed, he was actually a bit cold standing there starkers. But he had an idea when Merlin sat at the keyboard in the corner, switching it on with trembling fingers.

“Right, so,” Merlin began, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve sort of thought about doing this a lot. And, uh, now that you’re here, I figured I would. Do it for you. Don’t be an arse about it, okay?”

Arthur was speechless, because he was certain Merlin was about to play a song for him, only for him, and when it came to Merlin’s music, Arthur could only stare dumbly. There was no way in the world he could be an arse about it, so he shook his head, trying not to appear too stunned before Merlin even started.

Merlin took a deep breath. “Okay.”

Arthur didn’t know what he expected. Part of him probably did expect it to be _that_ song, but mostly he hadn’t had any expectations, so when Merlin started singing, started playing the notes Arthur had heard countless times, it was like a punch to the stomach. Arthur felt winded, out of breath, his throat closed up and preventing him from swallowing, because this was Merlin, no mic, no stage, no audience, just him with a piano in the privacy of his flat playing for Arthur alone.

It was only when Merlin got to the second verse that he remembered Merlin was also naked, and another flood of warmth spread through his chest as that seemed to emphasise the privilege. He thought he was going to die standing there, listening to Merlin’s voice gloss over the notes. The lyrics were the same as always, but they sounded different somehow, more raw and powerful, like Merlin was showing Arthur his soul. And it was a beautiful soul, as beautiful as the music he created.

Arthur didn’t let the song end. He didn’t let Merlin finish the last few wordless seconds of outro. He simply walked over, grabbed Merlin’s arm, and pulled him away from the keyboard back to the bedroom.

“Guess this means you liked it then,” Merlin said, laughing.

♫♪

Arthur ended up staying the whole weekend. If they weren’t eating, sleeping, watching telly, or listening to music, they were fucking. Or kissing. Or just laying touching in some intimate way. Arthur didn’t want it to end.

But he had to leave Sunday night, and when he lay in bed, happy with the way things turned out despite the detachment from his father, it was with the memory of Merlin’s skin against his, Merlin whispering lyrics in his ear as they lay together.

He woke up to a text on his mobile.

 

_= did we decide on a day? couldn’t remember so i picked today arbitrarily, hope that’s okay. sorry if you have trouble getting to work. =_

 

They hadn’t picked a day, actually. They’d decided the how but not the when. Arthur braced himself and walked to his laptop, figuring he’d probably want a bigger screen for this.

He still wasn’t prepared. Because they also hadn’t decided on a fucking _photo_.

It wasn’t too bad, it was just of him sleeping, and even then it was only his face and the top of his shoulder. But it was the caption that made Arthur cringe a little.

 

Arthur sighed. Brilliant. Merlin hadn’t mentioned him, but he hadn’t needed to, not with that photo of him, obviously shirtless and in the same bed. There were already numerous replies, people asking if that was seriously Arthur Pendragon, and if their relationship was the real reason Arthur had moved. It didn’t look like Merlin had replied to any of them, which Arthur was grateful for.

But the photo had to have been taken Sunday morning, which meant Merlin had already had his plan in mind. And that, Arthur was not grateful for, because he looked terrible in that photo.

Arthur glanced at the time, making sure he wouldn’t risk being late for work to reply. He’d save looking at all the other mentions of his name for later, because no doubt there was as much of a buzz as before, if not worse.

Merlin’s response was just as clever as his whole cunning little plan, as it made Arthur look like the bad guy.

Well. Arthur couldn’t exactly stay angry when Merlin had just announced to the world that he loved him. And he supposed there had been worse photos of people released online.

Arthur snorted. Merlin was a child, really, and Arthur couldn’t believe he’d ever been afraid to talk to him. God, he’d been terrified. Of Merlin!

Now Arthur got it. Now it was hysterical. He couldn’t stop laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're interested in hearing Merlin's song, it's actually a song called "[Unraveling](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7oRALRdH9Hw)" by Matt Kim, one of my high school friends (I say friend; he was a friend of a friend and I talked to him less than ten times, but he's a fucking musical genius).
> 
> If you wanna hear the other songs mentioned in this fic, there's a playlist [here](http://neuroticnick.tumblr.com/post/113130316772).


End file.
